Kiss Me, You Idiot
by iambeagle
Summary: A story about falling in love with your charmingly idiotic roommate.
1. Chapter 1

"_Where are you_?"

"I'm almost there."

"_You said that an hour ago, Bella_."

"I was lying."

"_So what makes you think I believe you now_?"

I walk into the pub, scanning the area for Edward and Emmett. Seconds pass before I spot them sitting at the bar, their backs to me.

"Believe it, Cullen. I can see you're wearing that stupid white oxford shirt you seem to love."

Edward turns around, phone still against his ear, and flips me off before hanging up. I make my way toward them, and Edward spins around on his stool, facing me.

"I don't know why you hate this shirt," he drawls, giving me a look.

"One, it's from J Crew. And two, you know I get hostile around collars." He actually looks pretty decent, but I refuse to tell him that.

"I bought it from Goodwill," he argues.

"A label's a label, homie. Shopping at Goodwill doesn't make you any less of a prep."

"You're the most difficult person I know," he deadpans, which genuinely makes me happy.

With my hand on his shoulder I say, "That's the nicest thing you've ever said to me." Realizing there aren't any open seats next to them, I say, "A gentleman would give up his stool for me."

He grins. "I thought you were a feminist. Besides, you're late."

I scoff, giving him a light shove. "It's barely after ten!"

"You're always late."

"This isn't even an official event. There was no set time for me to be here. You idiot."

"This is definitely an official thing," Emmett finally chimes in, keeping his eyes on the television mounted on the wall. "It's a _let's get wasted because those Big Brother bitches turned me down_ thing."

Emmett got drunk one night and applied for Big Brother. He got pretty far in the interview process, and was even flown out to Los Angeles by the producers. But in the end got canned because he wasn't as thirsty or cunning as the rest of the contestants.

"I know you're bummed, Em," I say, trying my best to sound sympathetic, which only ends up as snark. "Your dream of being a reality TV star is dwindling by the day, huh?"

He ignores me. Which is probably for the best.

"Why're you late, anyway?" Edward asks, always nosy.

"I told you I had dinner plans."

His eyes cut to the TV, looking away. "Like _romantic_ dinner plans?"

"No. Like with my friend, Kate."

"Kate?" Emmett repeats. "She visiting or what?"

"She actually just moved back."

"Do I know her?" Edward chimes in, facing me again.

"No."

He looks confused. "How are you friends with someone I don't know?"

"Well, she moved away before I even met you. And if you're trying to be a jerk with that comment somehow, then just… shut up."

Pleased with himself, he laughs, swigging his beer. "You're in a mood tonight."

"No, I'm not," I insist, grabbing the pint glass out of his hand and taking a long sip.

"By all means," he drawls.

I smile sweetly then return the glass. "Fine. I'll get my own. Something better than the crap you're drinking."

"You love this beer."

I do, it's true, but I still want to give him shit.

An hour passes and I'm a couple brews in when we decide to switch it up and go somewhere else. There's a venue a block away that often has live music on Saturday nights. I have a nice buzz going on, making me want to dance. A lot. To anything.

Our ratchet little threesome stumbles down the street, before shoving our way through the crowd to get in line at the bar. Edward buys three Rainiers and hands them to us before we find a spot near the side of the stage. The band playing tonight is kind of country, kind of bluesy, and I quickly find myself dancing in place to the music.

Edward stares down at me, smirking, before taking my beer out of my hand and setting it on a nearby table. He strides back over and I'm about to slap his chest for stealing my beer when he grabs my hand, pulling me against him.

"What's your deal, Cullen?"

"It's called _dancing_. I'm trying to save you from embarrassing yourself."

I try to protest at first, pointing out that I'm too good of a dancer and might show him up, but he doesn't listen to my joke, doesn't care, and keeps dancing. He pushes me away from him, keeping my hand in his, then pulls me back with a spin. I crash into his chest, but he doesn't stop. He starts moving us from side to side, so fast, and I can't stop laughing.

When the song comes to an end, he spins me, but doesn't stop. I'm a few too many turns in before I realize he's just being a dick and trying to make me dizzy.

I laugh, stumbling a bit when he let's go. "Asshole."

Edward grins, nodding over to where Emmett's standing with our beers. The band takes a break, and Em heads to the bar, announcing he'll buy us all shots if his card doesn't get declined.

I turn to Edward when we're alone. "I'm impressed by your dancing."

"Well, I'm not trying to impress _you_," he says, looking smug.

"Jesus, remind me to never compliment you again," I retort, scanning the area. "See anyone you like?"

When I look back over at him, his eyes are already on me. "No," he says, turning his attention to the crowd.

"Not even the blonde over there?"

He shrugs. "I'm not into blondes."

"No?" I don't know if this is true or not, but take his word.

He finishes his beer, tossing it in a nearby can. "Don't try to be my wingman. I'm not really feeling it tonight."

I'm about to give him shit and say he's never really feeling it, but I keep quiet, just in case he tries to prove me wrong.

My phone vibrates in my pocket and I pull it out, reading a text from Kate. Apparently her plans fell through and she wants to meet up. I let her know where we're at, and fifteen minutes later she finds Edward and me sitting outside.

"Hey-o," I greet.

"Hey! I'm glad you're out here, it's a little crowded in there." She sits across from us, face lighting up when she notices Edward. "Thanks for letting me meet up. Jared cancelled, so…" She smiles, eyes drifting toward Edward again.

"We're also here with Emmett," I say. "You remember him, right? I think he's either stuck in line or hitting on some poor soul."

Her eyes bounce from me, then back to Edward. "Yeah, I've met Emmett a few times."

I catch on and say, "Oh, this is Edward. He went to college with Emmett." I don't add the fact that Emmett was actually just on campus to use the bathroom, but he still likes to say he went to college.

They shake hands and exchange pleasantries.

"I heard a little about you during dinner," Kate says, fluffing her razor-sharp, strawberry-blonde hair.

"I'm sure all terrible things," he shoots back.

"What?" I feign shock. "Edward, I would never. You're so dear to me."

He laughs, narrowing his eyes. "Yeah, sure."

"So what do you do?" Kate begins.

Edward faces her again, leaning on the table with both elbows.

"Well. I'm still in grad school. I took two years off after graduating college."

"What are you studying?"

"Architecture."

"That's cool." Kate nods, beaming. "Do you have something in mind when you're done?"

"Maybe. I graduate in December, but I'm not actually sure I'll be staying in Seattle after that."

"What?" I interrupt. "Why not?"

"I have to go where the jobs are. There's no guarantee I'll get one here."

"Then just apply to ones that are here," I tell him, like it's that easy.

"What, would you miss me?" he teases.

"God, no."

He breathes out a laugh through his nose before turning back to Kate. "I was thinking of maybe California. I have a friend who just got a job in LA."

"Oh, I just love that city," Kate says politely.

"Nobody actually likes LA," I argue, but I'm interrupted by Edward agreeing with her.

I watch his eyes linger a second too long on her face, and there's a beat of silence where I suddenly become uncomfortable. I might be a little drunk, and hovering that line where if I drink another beer or two I'll become upset for no reason. Sometimes that happens. I cry it out and fall asleep. But right now I can't really figure out why I'd be upset. No one's starting drama and no one stole my food, so I should be stellar.

"So what else do you like to do?" Kate asks, and for fuck's sake. This isn't a first date. I'm about to tell her that Edward isn't _that_ interesting, but he goes into detail about all the things he loves to do. Hiking, dabbling in woodwork, blah blah blah. He answers all of her questions, eating up the attention. And I sit here, watching the two of them talk, hearing Kate tell him that what he's saying is _so_ fascinating.

And something in the pit of my stomach ignites.

"There you are, you dicks," Emmett says, bounding toward the table. "I've been looking everywhere for you."

"Sorry," I mumble. "You remember Kate?"

"Yeah. What's up?" He lifts his chin toward her. "I got us tequila shots but I can't carry all of them. Also, I need to order another if you want one?" he asks, staring at Kate.

Her eyes drift toward Edward before she replies with an all-too-peppy, "Sure!"

"Come help me, Bella," Emmett demands.

"What? Why me?"

"Because I need help."

Slowly, I stand from the table and am on the verge of asking Edward if he wants to go instead. But then he asks Kate why she moved back to Seattle, and they're lost in conversation.

Again.

* * *

**Hi. Are y'all sick of me yet?**

**Long story short: This has been in Google-doc-limbo since 2014. I've forced tons of people to read it over the years, and even though I insisted I wasn't going to go rogue and post yet, well... I lied. Clearly.**

**Thanks for reading, and I'll see y'all Friday for chapter 2!**


	2. Chapter 2

I spend the next hour nursing my tequila shot, listening to Edward and Kate talk and talk and talk. With every small sip, I wince, until Emmett's had enough.

"I can't watch this," he says. "Just take the shot, Bella."

"Leave me alone. I'm trying to take it easy."

"Since when?" Edward pipes in.

"Since tonight, Jackass." The usual playful edge in my tone is gone, and he gives me a look.

"I might call it a night here soon," Kate says, pulling out her phone. "It's almost one, and I have to be up kinda early."

"Okay, bye!" I say, a little preemptively.

Emmett laughs at this. Really hard. I think he smoked some weed because he disappeared to the "bathroom" for a good twenty minutes and came back smelling… herbal. The three of us stare at him, waiting for his geek-out to subside. It doesn't, though, and we kind of have to continue the conversation around his laughter.

Kate sighs, glancing again at her phone. "I have to wait fifty minutes for my bus. So much for trying to be environmentally friendly, right?"

"I can give you a ride," Edward offers.

"What? That would go against like… everything she believes in," I defend. "She just said she only takes public transportation."

Emmett agrees with me on this, which doesn't help my case. And I'm being fucking weird—I know I am. Edward is staring at me funny, and Kate looks like she's having a terrible time, unless she's talking to Edward. But the point of tonight wasn't to set up Edward and Kate. It was to have fun! Hang out! Catch up with an old friend! Not lose two friends to a lifetime of monogamy.

"Okay. Well." Edward drums his hands on the table. "I gave Em my shot, so I don't mind dropping you off. You said you live in Queen Anne, right?" Kate nods, smiling that he remembered. "Bella, you good?"

"No! Don't leave me with Emmett," I beg. "Not while he's high."

"I'm not high," he says adamantly.

"I don't want to get stuck trying to drag you home. Last time that happened you ran onto a different bus before I could get on and waved at me from the back window. Then you made me go pick you half an hour out of Seattle. No fucking thank you."

Edward and Emmett laugh at the memory before Edward says, "I guess I can drop you two off first."

"Why wouldn't you just drive to Kate's place first, then take us all home? Save time, make one trip to our house… it makes sense."

Of course, it makes sense if he's even planning on going home.

Edward shrugs, dropping the subject. Everyone closes out their tabs, and we walk a couple blocks to his old Subaru.

"Oh. Sorry," he apologizes to Kate. "The passenger door doesn't open from the outside. Hold on... "

Jesus Christ, he's basically blushing. It's dark out here, but by the way he's acting, it's clear he's embarrassed about his car. It makes me uncomfortable because that's definitely not the Edward I know.

We all get in, except Kate, who waits patiently for Edward to lean over and open her door. He apologizes again, and Kate says it's not a big deal, even calling it charming, before giving him the quickest route to her house. The ride is silent, except for the snoring coming from a sleeping Emmett. At one point he falls onto me when Edward turns a corner, and I shove him so hard he hits his head against the window and wakes up. I pretend like nothing's happened as we roll to a stop in front of a two-story house.

"Nice place," I murmur, staring up at it, my face basically pressed against the window.

"Yeah, it's totally renovated. I'm so in love with it." Kate turns in her seat to face me. "I have one roommate who's hardly ever home, so it's like I have the place all to myself."

I think of the old, three-bedroom house in Wallingford I share with Edward, Emmett, and Alice. The basement is finished, so Alice lives down there, and the rest of us have our own rooms on the main floor.

"We have a roommate sort of like that except she's always home, and we still never see her. One time we thought she was dead, but no one wanted to go down to the basement and find a dead body." Everyone stays quiet. "For the record, she wasn't dead."

"You should come over next week, and we can have a wine night. And maybe I'll see you around?" She's staring at Edward now.

He nods. "Yeah, sure."

Kate thanks him for the ride, and once she's out of the car I not-so-gracefully climb over the console to get into the front seat. Emmett gives me shit for a second, claiming I tried to murder him in his sleep before he succumbs once again and passes out.

"How long have you known Kate?" Edward asks, waiting for exactly two minutes to bring her up.

"Since freshman year of college."

"I can't see you two being friends."

"Okay. Well, get over it because we are." I think about his words for a minute before they start nagging at me. "Why can't you see us being friends?"

He sighs. "Oh, I don't know. You're so… she's just… she seems like she has her shit together. You… talk about dead bodies in our basement."

"Wow." I cross my arms over my chest. "So basically you think I'm a peasant."

"Yes." His eyes stay on the road as I glare as his profile. "That's exactly it."

"Screw you."

"Not having your shit together isn't a bad thing," he explains. "That's not what I was trying to say."

"Then what?"

"She's like… vanilla ice cream. You need to add some shit to it for it to be good. You know?"

"No. I don't know. I happen to love vanilla ice cream, so what you're saying makes zero sense to me."

"Okay. Well, if you can't understand what I'm saying, then I don't—"

"Maybe if you'd compared the situation to vanilla _froyo_ that would've made more sense."

"Nobody over the age of five likes vanilla _anything_, Bella," he insists, stopping at a red light.

I slap his arm. "How can you even say that to me?"

He shakes his head, looking somewhat annoyed. Part of me feels pleased because annoying him is one of my top five favorite things to do. I made a list once.

"I was just trying to find a nice way to say she's boring," he says, defeated. "You're not. Okay?"

"Oh."

"Yeah."

The light changes to green, and we sit in silence for the rest of the drive home.

* * *

**I appreciate all the love so far! I'm so glad y'all are down for what's to come. It's gonna be fun. :)**

**Hadley stepped in like a saint, and is keeping an eye on me. She has her work cut out for her.**

**Next update will be Tuesday!**


	3. Chapter 3

A week later, I'm sitting in Kate's gorgeous house, drinking fancy wine, listening to her talk about how she really wants to get her lips done. I can barely focus because Edward's stupid words and his stupid face keep popping into my stupid head.

What makes it worse is that he's right. He can't see Kate and I being friends because we're different people now. Her time in New York changed her. And that's okay—people change.

Kate's a tad uptight and makes people wear satin slippers when they enter her house. She drinks wine her parents bought while they were in Italy and keeps the conversation aimed at herself the entire time. I wear beat-up boots, drink wine from Trader Joe's because it's two bucks, and cringe at the thought of talking about myself.

Maybe that's why this friendship worked so well back in the day. I just kind of succumbed to it, and Kate usually got her way. I was fine with her being the center of attention as long as the spotlight was off of me. Of course, one might not recognize this on their own. If Edward hadn't said anything, I wouldn't have realized. But I see it all now, and it's nagging at me.

"So Edward texted me," Kate says, bringing me out of my thoughts.

"Oh?" I ask, pretending not to be caught off guard. Edward hasn't said a single word to me about Kate. "How'd he get your number?"

"He DM'd me on Instagram."

Insta-friends? Jesus, they move fast. Also, I was under the impression that Edward wasn't interested in social media.

"That's cool. Did he send you emojis to make a riddle then quiz you on them? He tends to do that."

"No, he asked me out."

I smile tightly and pour more wine into my glass. It doesn't matter that the glass was already half full or that some wine splashes onto my hand because it's glugging out so fast.

Kate watches me as I take a lengthy gulp. "That's a two-hundred dollar bottle."

I nearly spit-take all over her blonde wood floors. "Wow." I hold back from telling her I can't tell the difference between this and a ten-dollar bottle. "When is your date happening?"

"I wish it were sooner, but he invited me to some concert at The Showbox in like a month."

I gasp. It's really obnoxious, and I don't mean to do it, but motherfucker. I was supposed to go to that show with him.

"Do you even like that band's music?" My tone is slightly irritated, borderline passive-aggressive. If she says anything other than no, I'll know she's lying.

All she does is shrug. "I was stalking his page—it's pretty bare. When was his last girlfriend?"

I think about Edward's dating history. I mean, he's only had like, one serious girlfriend that I know of. She was nice enough, and we got along, but neither of them seemed too upset when they broke up. He dates around, but it's never that serious and hasn't happened in a while. He spends most nights at home on the couch playing Xbox with Emmett or being annoyed by me when he's not studying.

I don't want to tell Kate any of this, though. I don't know why. It feels like his nice-guy status should be a secret. I mean, Edward's _my_ friend. I'm not going to talk him up so she can steal him.

So I do what any normal person would do—I lie.

"Girlfriend? Edward doesn't really do girlfriends." I laugh cryptically. "Well, I mean, he _does_ girls, if you get my drift." Kate's laugh is stiff. "He fucks them. Pretty sure I heard him break his bed once."

Kate raises an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by this information, so I have to come at this from a different angle.

"I mean, he fucks them and then kicks them out that night. Like five minutes after. It's disgusting. One time this girl didn't have any money for an Uber home, and Edward was like, '_I don't give a shit… bitch…_'" I trail off, shocked by what's coming out of my mouth. I'm terrible. Edward's a fucking saint compared to the shit I'm spewing. But I'm too far in to stop, so I don't. Also, wine.

"I don't get that vibe from him," Kate says, sipping delicately from her glass.

"Well." I shake my head, then gulp the rest of my wine. "Dude's a dick."

XXX

I'm awful. Seriously. Most days I already know I'm going to hell, and I'm okay with it, I guess. Tonight I know for sure I'm going to get moved to the front of the line because I'm an asshole. I made Edward sound so bad. He doesn't deserve that. But Kate doesn't deserve Edward. She wouldn't wake up early for weeks on end, like I did, to sit in the hospital and play cards with him and his grandpa, who was undergoing chemo. Or drink too much tequila with him on a Tuesday night to cheer him up. She wouldn't make the road trip with him to Bend, Oregon, to visit the last remaining Blockbuster. Or maybe she would. If he asked her, she probably would. But she wouldn't like it—she'd pretend. And pretenders are fucking stupid. Also, I'm drunk.

I stumble into the house. It's dark, every light off except the small bulb above the stove. I hear a hissing sound and scream when I see Alice.

"Jesus Christ!" I yell, reaching for the light switch.

She's sitting at the kitchen table, reading a book.

"What… are you doing?" I ask cautiously.

She blinks a few times, closes her book, and leaves the room.

Yeah, I'm too drunk for this.

I head to the bathroom to wash my face and see the light in Edward's room is still on. I knock twice before he tells me to come in. He's sitting up against his headboard, doing something on his laptop.

"Cyber-stalking Kate?" I ask. It's a stupid greeting, and I immediately regret it.

"Uh… no?"

"Just kidding."

"Right." He eyes me. "Are you okay? Was that you out there screaming?"

"Yes. Nice of you to come out to make sure nothing was wrong," I grumble. "What are you doing?"

"Well, before you came in here and started acting all weird, I was about to go to bed."

"Cool." We stare at each other for a second. "Should I go?"

"You don't have to."

"No?"

His gaze burns into me. "It seems like you want something. What's up?"

I stay standing, despite how inviting his bed looks. "You're taking Kate to our show?"

A look of understanding crosses his face. "You never said you were going. I don't want to go with her, but she kept insisting we hang out."

"Sure, blame it on her sliding into your DMs."

"Are you speaking English?"

"Yes. Whatever—I bought my ticket tonight, so I'm going." Then add for good measure: "_We're_ going."

"Okay. Cool. We're going," he echoes, sounding amused. "That's what I wanted in the first place, when I asked you months ago. Weirdo."

"You merely mentioned when the show was," I counter. "I don't remember you actually asking."

"The invitation was implied. I told you about it when we were at that cat cafe, and you snapped twenty photos of your Catpuccino."

"It was more like thirty-six photos but whatever."

"God." He laughs, shutting his laptop, swinging his legs over the edge of his mattress. "I'm embarrassed for you."

"Don't be. People love cats. That was one of my more popular Instagram posts."

"Congratulations," he says dryly. "I'm gonna go to bed now."

I frown, lingering. "But I've barely gotten to make fun of you today."

"There's always tomorrow," he offers, smirking. "Unless you wanted to watch something with me?"

I quirk a brow. "As in lie in bed with you and watch on your laptop?"

"I know that's a little too intimate for you. I was thinking you could lie there." He points to the rug on his floor, and I roll my eyes.

"Tempting. Also, rude," I mutter, turning to leave. "Goodnight, jerk."

"Offer still stands if you change your mind," he calls out as I walk down the hallway.

* * *

**Don't be too annoyed by these weirdos. They're playing the long game lol CLEARLY.**

**Thanks for reading**—**next update is Friday!**

**Hadley made this pretty, but I tinkered with it so any mistakes are miiine all miiine.**


	4. Chapter 4

My head doesn't hurt nearly as bad as I thought it would when I finally wake up in the morning. But maybe that's because it's after ten. I slept through my freakin' alarm, and I'm late to work. I scramble to get ready and make it to the museum before eleven.

"I'm sorry—I'm sorry. I'm so irresponsible, but don't fire me because I don't want to live under a bridge, okay?" I say all this with one breath, and Marcus rolls his eyes.

"I can't fire you because I can't find anyone else to hire," he responds dryly. "No one else is desperate enough to work in a museum gift shop."

"I wouldn't call myself desperate…" But fine. As long as I get to keep my job, that's good enough for me.

"I'm going on my lunch break. Can you hold down the fort until I get back?"

I glance around the empty shop. "It's literally no problem."

He leaves, and I immediately open Instagram to pass the time. A few customers come in, look at a few things, then leave. I check the clock and groan when I realize I still have five hours until we close.

It's not that I don't love my job, I just... hate it. Like, a lot. I graduated two years ago and I have yet to start a legit career. I guess that's what I deserve for getting an English degree. I have no burning desire to be a teacher, and as much as I love spilling the tea, I don't really find journalism appealing. So what are my other options?

I love writing—I do—but what did I really expect? To become an amazing author who produces the next great American novel? No. I don't have the time or motivation for that. What I _do_ have time for my stupid Instagram page, Hungry Hipster, which isn't actually stupid and has a pretty decent following. I visit different, obscure restaurants around the city, post photos, and write about my experience. It started off as a joke, and it still kinda is, which I guess is part of the appeal. If I were trying to be serious about it, I probably would've quit by now.

So, yeah. I spend half my day doing work a monkey could pull off and the other half providing content on social media for free.

My priorities are definitely in line.

I sigh, leaning against the counter. I'm self-aware enough to realize this is why I got upset over what Edward said last week, about not having my shit together. Because I'm in a rut. I _know_ this—I just don't want other people to be aware, too.

* * *

Later that evening when I'm finally home, no one seems to be around. I'm sure Alice is here somewhere, but I'm basically by myself. This lasts about five minutes before Edward walks through the back door.

"Yo," he greets, setting his backpack on the floor and grabbing a beer from the fridge. "What are you up to?"

I glance up from my laptop. "Not much. Just surfin' the web."

He cracks a smile at this. "Did you already eat, weirdo?"

"Not yet."

"You wanna grab something?"

I shrug. "Sure."

His beer cracks open with a _hiss_. "Do we need to go somewhere strange for your Instagram or can you take the night off?"

"Ha ha," I say dryly. "I don't care where we go. I'm down for whatever."

He sits next to me at the table, grinning. I already know where this is going.

"Remember the time you posted a photo with me in it and got the most likes you've ever received?"

"How could I forget?" I drawl. "You remind me everyday."

"I'm proud. Let me revel in my glory."

"You're a loser."

"Not according to your Insta-fans. Pretty sure they love me."

"They're not _fans_. And whatever, what do you want to eat?"

"I could go for Chipotle."

I groan. "No, because every time we go there you and I both order burritos, yet somehow they always run out of chicken before it's my turn to order. And they always say it's gonna be a ten-minute wait until the next batch is ready. I don't want to get sad in Chipotle anymore."

"I'll let you order first," he says, sliding his beer across the table for me.

I take a quick sip, eyeing him for so easily sharing. "Don't you want chicken?"

"I don't really care. The _two_ times they've run out of it, I've always offered you mine, but you turn it down. So I don't know why you're acting like you've been personally victimized by Chipotle."

"One, did you just quote _Mean Girls_? And two, I turned it down because you already had sour cream in your burrito. I hate sour cream."

"I'm not above quoting _Mean Girls_. Also, sour cream doesn't really add enough flavor for you to not eat something that's smothered with it."

"Exactly! It's all wet and pointless. So why the hell do you get it?"

"Because it's good? I don't know."

"Speaking of bland, boring things, why did you even ask Kate out anyway?" It's probably a good thing I come right out with it rather than drive myself crazy not knowing. "I thought you said she was vanilla. Plus, you said you don't like blondes."

"Hers is more strawberry blonde," he corrects, ignoring my question.

I kick him under the table. "Spill, Cullen."

"I don't know. She followed me on Instagram—"

"_She_ followed _you_?"

"How drunk were you last night?" he jokes. "We talked about this when you came to my room. I told you she kept insisting we go out—"

"So _she_ asked _you_ out?" I clarify.

"I'm not sure why it matters, but technically yes." He lets out an exasperated sigh. "Can we go now? I'm really hungry."

"It matters because she told me that _you_ followed her and that _you_ asked her out. So that's a little fuckin' odd, if you ask me."

Edward merely shrugs. "I didn't initiate anything. Besides, it's all been pretty innocent. Maybe you misunderstood her."

"Right—because you have to be a regular ol' moron to not understand what someone means when they blatantly say someone asked them out."

He stares at me for a second, a slow smirk morphing onto his face. "This is really pissing you off, isn't it?"

I feel my cheeks heat. "No. Yes. Maybe."

"Do you not want me to go out with her?" he asks, and it's a very simple question that deserves a very simple answer. "I thought you two were friends."

"We… are."

His brows raise, and I know. I know this entire situation is weird and messy and makes zero sense. I've never had a problem with Kate before. But... it's Edward. If she were going after Emmett, it would be different.

"I don't care what you do," I tell him, spinning his beer between my fingers. "At least, I don't usually care. But for some reason, I don't want you to go out with her."

There. Honesty is key, right?

"Why not?" he asks, his voice now much quieter than before. "Do you have a thing for me?"

"Oh, god," I groan, standing from the table. "You know what? I'm not hungry anymore."

"Come on," he laughs, grinning so wide. "That's a lie. You're a hungry, hungry hipster." He laughs again, this time at his own joke.

"Nope. I just lost my appetite."

He reaches out before I can walk away, gently grabbing my waist and keeping me where I am. It's a light touch that makes my stomach flutter, and my stomach's never fluttered before. Ever. From anyone.

"Don't let you being in love with me keep you from eating," he teases.

I pull away, rolling my eyes. I want to slap his chest and punch his stupid face and kiss him. I want to kiss him hard so he'll stop laughing. Which is not okay. I know I've always harbored a crush on Edward. It's sort of our thing. We flirt and tease, and we're assholes to each other. But neither of us has ever acknowledged the attraction. I've definitely never entertained the idea of acting on it or even wanting to. I never thought the words _I want to kiss him_. But I just did. And the worst part is, I didn't hate it.

* * *

**Some people are stressed about Kate, but rest assured she isn't some big villain (like, she's not gonna somehow get E's sperm and impregnate herself or anything insane like that). Um, anyway. No worries on that front!**

**Hadley helped tremendously, but might drop my ass after she reads this A/N.**

**Thanks for reading!**


	5. Chapter 5

"Holy hell, Bella. What the fuck is on your cheek?" Emmett so kindly asks, first thing in the morning.

I scowl. The dick doesn't deserve an answer. Besides, it's obvious what's on my cheek: a huge zit. Overnight, it appeared out of nowhere, and it seems like it's here to stay. Fucking set up camp on my cheek, right there for everyone to stare at with disgust.

I thought I was being dramatic, but Emmett's reaction only further proves my point.

"Fuck off," I mutter, pouring myself a cup of coffee.

I don't care if Emmett makes fun of me. Seriously. It's Edward I'm worried about. Not that I think he'll make fun of me, but… I mean. I don't want him seeing me like this. Not that him seeing me with a zit is going to make him not like me. Not that I want him to like me. I just… I'm allowed to be sensitive about things every now and then, and this is what I'm choosing today.

Luckily, Edward's already gone for the day. He attends classes until mid-afternoon, then tutors high school students for a few hours after that. So I have time for this thing to drain out before tonight. I hope.

"This coffee tastes funny," I comment, taking another small sip to figure out what's wrong with it. "What did you do to it?"

"I didn't make it. I thought Edward did."

"Edward wakes up too early and grabs coffee from 7-11 on his way to—" I pause. "Class."

"And you didn't make it," Emmett adds, carefully eyeing the basement door.

"So that only leaves…" Alice. We don't say her name out loud, in case she's listening. House rule.

I pour the coffee down the drain and rinse my mouth out in the sink. It's not that we think she would poison us. We just know that she would if she had zero chance of getting caught. One time she left out a batch of cookies, and we willingly ate them. A few hours later, Edward, Emmett, and I were sharing the bathroom, taking turns getting sick. Coincidence? Okay, so the three of us also ate from the same Mexican restaurant a few hours before shit hit the fan. We still don't like to take any chances.

I've momentarily forgotten about the crater on my face until I walk into the bathroom to brush my teeth and see my reflection. I groan out loud, then make a quick decision to put a Band-Aid over it. If Nelly can pull it off, I definitely can, too. Or I'm gonna sure as hell try.

The day passes slower than normal. I manage not to piss off Marcus, which is cool. We've also not spoken more than five words to each other all day. For him it was _what happened to your face_. My five words were _walked into a door thing_."

He seemed to buy it.

When there's an hour left until I'm free, I hear a familiar chuckle. I know it's Edward, but I have no idea what he's doing here. I leave my spot from behind the counter and take a few steps before I'm face-to-face with him… and Kate.

"What are you doing here?" I ask bluntly.

"What happened to your face?" Edward immediately asks.

I bring a hand up to my cheek, touching the Band-Aid. "I burned it on the toaster," I lie quickly.

"What?" He looks skeptical, as one should. "We don't have a toast—"

"What are you two doing here?" I interrupt, staring at Kate's smiling face. I can't tell if she's painfully oblivious to how much I hate this, or if she scheduled this run-in on purpose.

"Edward and I ran into each other, so we had lunch," she says, upbeat.

I try to detect any sort of manipulation in her tone, but I come up empty. She just happened to run into Edward. And they happened to eat lunch together. And she just happens to have the best luck ever, bless her heart.

"We were a few blocks from the museum and Edward said he was gonna come see you, so I tagged along. You know how much I love museums," she says sweetly.

Gag me with a fucking spoon. Who actually likes museums?

"A lunch date, huh?" I ask, mimicking her tone. "That's precious."

"Actually, I was on my way to get coffee and Kate tagged along and bought a sandwich from Starbucks," Edward clarifies. "So. Not exactly a lunch date."

"Same difference," Kate laughs.

Edward pulls on the back of his neck. "Are you okay, though?" he asks, pointing to my face.

"No." I'm not okay. I hate this… this stupid feeling that makes me want to claw out Kate's eyes and punch Edward square in the jaw before kissing him. It doesn't matter that she and I are supposed to be friends. She's encroaching on territory I hadn't known I'd claimed, and it's pissing me the hell off. And I know that's not her problem. It's mine. She isn't doing anything wrong.

Marcus appears from the back, so I use him as an excuse.

"I have to get back to work," I say lamely and turn around.

"You? Work?" Marcus says loudly. "Ha!" His fake laugh is so dumb.

"You want a ride home?" Edward offers, checking the time on his phone. "You get off soon, right?"

"I can take the bus."

"But your cheek—"

"Is on my face. I can still walk. Got legs. Thanks."

The three of us stand awkwardly, and it's killing me, so I tell them bye and rush to the back of the store where I can hide in the dimly lit employee bathroom until my shift is over.

What a terrible day. What a shitty-ass motherfucking day. As if it wasn't already awful enough, I walk outside to find it's raining. No, I shouldn't be surprised. I just thought maybe one thing would go my way today.

I pull my hood over my head and start walking to the bus stop when I spot Edward's car. I pretend I don't see him, though, and walk past. He calls out my name, but I ignore him. I hear an engine start and then he's slow-rolling next to me, window down, telling me to get in.

"What are you doing, weirdo? I told you I was gonna take the bus."

"Well, I waited." He reaches over, opening the passenger door from the inside. "Get in."

I want to turn him down. I'm not some damsel. I can get myself to and from work. But my sneakers are already soaked, and one time I slipped on the bus while walking down the aisle. It was so embarrassing. I'd just really like to avoid that again. So I get in the car.

"Where's your date?" I ask stiffly.

"It wasn't a date."

"Do you get the feeling she's stalking you?" Because I get that feeling.

"Come to think of it, I did find her in the bushes outside campus."

I gasp. "Edward, that's insane. You need to—" I stop when I see he's fighting a smile.

"Bella. She wasn't hiding in the bushes."

I knew that. But still. "So out of all the people in the city, she happened to run into you? Randomly?"

"I guess so."

I cross my arms over my chest. I quickly unfold them when I realize this must make me look upset. Then, in a moment of I-don't-give-a-fuck-if-I-look-upset-or-not, I cross my arms again. This goes on for half a minute.

"Are you having a seizure?" Edward asks, frowning.

"You wish."

"Yes. You're absolutely correct," he deadpans. "I wish you would have a seizure."

"You know what? Just drop me off here." I point toward an upcoming stop sign. We're nowhere near home, and it's still pouring, but I can't be in this car anymore. I'm overthinking shit, and it's literally driving me insane.

"Drop you off here? Why?" He rolls to a stop, and I take the opportunity to jump out. "Isn't this a little dramatic?" he yells out.

I ignore him as I jog away. Into the rain. Alone.

Okay, so Edward's right. It is dramatic. But you know what else is dramatic? The fact that the other night, I wanted to kiss him. Hard. Other dramatic aspects of my life include wanting to punch my own friend in the face for even talking to Edward. Which she's allowed to do. They're both single. So it should be fine. But it's not. Which is why, until I figure out what the hell is going on with my head and heart and what I need to do about it, I'm going to avoid him.

Or sure as hell try to.

* * *

**I'm slightly hungover, which results in feeling impulsive ~and generous. Woohoo.**

**Hadley might kill me for the early update. In the event that happens, she's responsible for posting the rest of the story.**


	6. Chapter 6

It's been five days since I've seen Edward. I'm quite proud of myself. I wasn't actually going to go through with this idiotic plan, but the first two days sort of happened on accident, so I figured why not? I've made a point to stay later at work when I know he's home, and I make plans with friends when I have nowhere else to be. I thought he might've texted after day one of my absence but he didn't. Which I found rather annoying.

Avoiding him forever isn't a sound plan, but talking to him seems too daunting because I'm not even sure what I'd say. Of course I know I like the guy—I'm not that dim. I'm just not willing to mess up our current situation on a potentially one-sided feeling. Our rent is cheap, and our friendship is solid. I refuse to let wanting to kiss his stupidly cute face come between that.

But there is a small part of me that is curious if he feels the same way. And I'll never really know unless I put my pride and neurosis aside, which is easier said than done. On the bus ride home, I think about what I'll say in case I run into him. 'I might like you' is as far as I've gotten. I can figure out the rest after I see how he reacts.

As I walk up to the house, I see the lights in the living room are on. Seconds after walking through the door, I find Edward and Kate sitting on the couch, watching a movie. It seems casual enough—they're not sitting on the same couch, and Emmett's here. But I still hate it.

Edward's face is unreadable. He pauses the movie and says, "So, you're alive."

I sink into the chair in the corner of the room. "Unforch."

"Where have you been? I was starting to think you were," he lowers his voice, "pulling an Alice on us."

Emmett laughs, and Kate just looks confused.

"I've been around. Supes busy."

"Why are you talking like that?" he asks, calling me out.

I shrug, standing. "It was so great to see y'all. I just have to go die now."

Jealousy brews in my belly, and I decide that little speech I had for Edward should be edited to 'I like you.' No _might_. No _maybe_. It's a sure thing.

And it's stupid—so fucking stupid. I don't know why I'm so annoyed by Kate's presence. It's not like I walked in and saw them making out. But it still irks me to my core.

I walk briskly into the kitchen. If I'm fast enough, I can grab enough food for the next week and not have to leave my room. Maybe Alice is onto something.

I find a paper bag from Trader Joe's, open the cabinet, and start throwing things in, not caring what I'm grabbing. Mustard? Sure. Spaghetti noodles? Love 'em. Canned tuna? No, god no. I put it back in the cupboard, then decide to just throw it away. Canned fish is the worst. Canned _anything _is disgusting. But the smell is—

"What are you doing?"

Edward's voice startles me, and I drop some boxes I'd been holding. This makes him laugh, which makes me scowl, as I bend down to pick up cereal, crackers, and ramen.

"I'm not doing anything," I clearly lie. "Go away."

He bends down, helping me. "So listen… if you're like… I don't know, going through something, you can talk to me. There are lots of resources for people who are depressed."

I shove his shoulder, and since he was squatting, he falls onto his ass. It makes me smile. I feel sadistic.

He frowns, standing. "Why'd you push me?"

"Because I'm not depressed, you asshole."

"Why am I an asshole? You're the one who's avoiding me."

"I'm not."

"You are. Honestly, you're really starting to freak me out," he murmurs. He's not laughing or smiling. He just looks worried. I mean, I am acting a bit out of character.

"Fine. I just," I lower my voice to a whisper, "feel really awkward with you hanging out with Kate. And it's kinda of fucking annoying that she keeps showing up without asking me first."

"She was hanging out with Emmett when I got home. If you want me to make her leave, I will."

I shush him. "She's like, right out there."

"She went to the bathroom."

"If you make her leave, then I'll just feel guilty."

"You're giving me whiplash, woman." He runs a hand through his hair, making it stick up in places. "What do you want me to do? Because the other night, when you said you didn't want me going out with her, I thought you were just fucking around. Like always."

"I don't… know." I stare at his face. He looks so concerned and so sweet, and I want to hug him. So I do. I step forward and wrap my arms around his torso. It takes him a second, but he closes his arms around me, tightening his grip. My face is pressed against his chest, and he's so warm and smells so good.

With his chin resting on top of my head, he asks, "You gonna be okay?"

I pull back, creating space between us. "Maybe. Can we forget I tried to raid our cupboards and live in my room for the rest of eternity?"

"Oh, I'm never letting you live that one down."

"Dick." I shove him, but it's softer, and there's less conviction behind it than before.

His gaze lingers, a glint of humor in his eyes.

"What?" I ask skeptically.

"Oh, come on. Just admit it already. You obviously have a crush on me."

I can feel the heat rising in my face. "Don't make it sound so juvenile."

He laughs, enjoying this a little too much. "You're the one who's acting immature about it."

"Let's say I did have a thing for you… then what? Huh? We're best friends, and besides being my roommate, we're both extraordinary idiots."

"Wow, what a speech. Did you plan that?"

"Shut up." I hate how spot-on he is. "Let's say I don't like you. Maybe I'm just annoyed Kate's trying to chat you up because… because you're _my_ best friend. Not hers."

"Have you ever heard of 'only child syndrome'?"

"Stop trying to diagnose me." He cracks a smile, and I fight my own. "You and I," I gesture between us, "would never work out."

His smile widens. "Why not?"

"Well, I saw this movie where these two people were roommates and fell in love, but then the guy cheated, and the chick had to move out. Really messy." He doesn't look convinced. "Also, have you ever seen _New Girl_? Nick and Jess were together, but then they broke up, and it was weird for a while. The energy in the apartment was way off. I really hated that season."

"All of your evidence is based off true events. So that's promising."

"Does life not imitate art?"

"I'd hardly call _New Girl_ art."

"Don't patronize me."

"Well, none of that matters anyway because you're not my type."

"Excuse me?" I ask hotly. "I'm pretty sure I'm everyone's type. I dated an emo kid in high school."

His lips twitch. "Wow. Was it exhilarating?"

"No, it was weird. All he wanted to do was listen to All-American Rejects and talk about how he accidentally killed a kitten when he was seven, and—"

I realize too late that Edward didn't actually want an answer.

"Okay. Well." I make a move to leave, stepping over the boxes of food on the floor, a few Cheerios crunching beneath my shoes. "I guess this conversation is over. Since nothing is going to happen anyway. You don't even like me." He doesn't take the bait, just smiles wider. "And this would be terrible. We'd screw it all up then we'd have to move out, and I don't have money to do that, and packing sucks. So. That's that. We won't date."

"That's that," he agrees. "We won't date because packing sucks."

I reach out to shake his hand. "Just to make it official." His palm presses against my palm, fingers curling around mine. "Just friends," I say, then give him a look, telling him to repeat it.

"Just friends," he echoes. "Shall we take a blood oath? Just to be safe?"

"I don't think we have sharp enough knives for that, unless—" He slowly shakes his head. "Joking. Right. I knew that. Does this mean you're going to date Kate, though?"

"No."

"Okay, so maybe just say it. For official reasons."

"No," he laughs, still shaking my hand.

"Why not?"

He takes a step closer and we're merely inches apart. "Because I like driving you crazy."

I stare up at him, pulling my hand out of his. "That's rude," I breathe out.

"I think it's fun."

I open my mouth then close it. My heart is beating so fast, and I grow nervous with how close he is. It's like once I internally acknowledged my feelings, the pull I feel toward him is like nothing I've ever felt before. My body _aches_. It's so obnoxious.

"Are you going to kiss me?" I whisper.

He leans down, a little closer, but not touching. "Do you want me to?"

"That depends. Do you go around kissing girls who aren't your type?"

Before he can answer, the basement door opens, and I startle, stepping away from Edward. Alice walks in, ignoring us as she picks up a box of crackers from the floor then disappears downstairs again.

A beat passes before Edward and I begin laughing quietly.

"She scares the shit out of me," I whisper, then clear my throat. "I should probably clean all of this up."

With a semi-amused smirk on his lips, he says, "Bella."

"What?"

He stares at me for a beat too long then says, "Don't avoid me anymore."

My go-to response would usually be something snarky. But the way he's staring at me, so intense and earnest, makes this feel more serious than our typical banter.

"Okay," I say, surprising myself. "I won't."

* * *

**For the few people annoyed by Bella—Alice is gonna show up in your basement if you don't simma down.**

**Anyway! Thanks for reading!**


	7. Chapter 7

Summer in Seattle never really begins until after the fourth of July. The days leading up to the holiday are usually gray and wet. Luckily for us, summer shows up a day early this year—just in time for the Cullens' annual party.

Since the fourth falls on a Monday, Edward's parents throw the bash the day before since everyone gets really rowdy and deliciously drunk. This will be my third year to attend, and it's become one of my favorite Cullen holidays to attend. Christmas is a close second.

It takes a little more than an hour before we reach his parents' house. There are cars already parked on their property, and Edward makes a disappointed sound.

"I told you we were late," he tells me, keeping his eyes focused on the road.

"You and your time constraints. It's only 4:30. If anything, we're fashionably late," I correct as he slows to a stop, putting the car in park.

"We have Emmett with us," he deadpans. "There's nothing fashionable about it."

"Screw you, Cullen," Em cries as we pile out of the car. "I got style. I got style for days."

"Yeah, screw you," I echo, meeting Edward at the trunk. I finally have an excuse to wear the red two-piece jumpsuit I ordered online three months ago. The thin-strapped crop top just barely meets the high-waisted trousers, so the tiniest sliver of my waist shows. Despite the top being fitted, the pants are loose, flowy, and I feel fucking great. I might even say I feel sexy compared to my typical Fourth of July outfit—jean shorts and a star-spangled tank top. "I happen to think I look great today."

Edward's eyes sweep over my body. "Obviously I wasn't including you in that comment," he says quietly, maybe so Emmett won't hear.

My body tingles. I wasn't expecting that reply from him or that reaction from me.

It's only been a week since our conversation in the kitchen. We've kept things pretty light, kind of dancing around each other since. But I think he took what I said seriously because Kate's out of the picture, as far as I can tell.

Opening the trunk, we gather everything. Emmett brought a bottle of Cuervo. Edward brought a case of beer and two bags of ice, per his dad's request. I brought rum-soaked strawberries, dipped in icing and sprinkled with blue sugar. I'm a regular ol' Betty Crocker.

Edward peers down into the dish as we walk toward the house. "What's that?"

"Strawberries soaked in booze," I say. "It's patriotic."

"Sounds _alcoholic_."

I laugh. "Don't those two go hand-in-hand?"

Before he can offer another snarky remark, we're interrupted by his dad.

"Look who finally decided to show," Carlisle says, standing on the porch, grin so cute. He grabs the dish from my hands, ignoring the fact that Edward has two bags of ice stacked on top of a case of beer and could probably use more help.

"Thanks a lot, Dad," Edward says sarcastically as Carlisle pulls me in for a hug.

"Haven't seen you in a while, kiddo. Where have you been hiding?"

"Oh, just around," I say lamely, smiling back at him.

"Is my boy causing you any grief?"

"Always," I admit, playfully glaring at his son.

"Dad, let her go," Edward says flatly, shaking his head.

"Like hell I will," Carlisle argues, a twinkle in his eyes. "You could learn a thing or two from me."

Pretty sure Edward rolls his eyes and it takes everything in me not to kick him. Instead, I decide to play nice, mostly because there are witnesses. I grab a bag of ice from him as we shuffle inside.

The Cullens' house is large, to say the least. After Edward graduated high school, they sold their home in Seattle, bought some land outside city limits, and built a house that's probably far too big for just the two of them. I know Esme's hinted that she wants a big family, and since her baby-making days are behind her, I assume she means that she wants a lot of grandkids. Edward always shuts down the conversation, embarrassed. Which makes me egg on his mom even more. If it makes Edward feel awkward then I'm game.

Emmett and Carlisle head out to the deck, where almost everyone else is. Except Esme, who's buzzing around the kitchen, looking flawless as ever.

"Well, well, well," she greets, sticking a pan of jalapeño poppers in the oven. "I was getting worried y'all weren't gonna make it before the fireworks."

This family and their punctuality. We're only half an hour late.

"Yeah, sorry," Edward says. We were definitely late because of me, but in a moment of what I can only refer to as a miracle, Edward doesn't throw me under the bus. I shoot him a look, my expression mirroring the grimace face emoji. It's as close to an apology as I'll give.

"I love your outfit, Bella." Esme smiles, hugging me tightly. "Oh, I meant to bug you! You never sent Ben your resume."

"I know, I just…" got distracted by absolutely nothing.

She waves me off, not making it more of a thing. "When you're ready, just let me know. I'll send you his contact info again."

When I was here for Christmas, I might've gotten drunk and complained about my shit job. Esme, the ever-graceful, amazing woman she is, told me about an opportunity at a friend's startup as an administrative assistant. Essentially the company teams with coffee roasters in the Pacific Northwest and ships the beans to customers around the world. She said it wasn't glamorous by any means, but there was definitely room to eventually move up in the company. It, of course, sounded better than what I'm currently doing. But I, of course, dropped the ball.

"Thanks, Esme. I'm still interested. I'll start revising my resume this week."

She beams, grabbing a pitcher out of the fridge, pouring me a glass of Dragoon Punch.

"Oh, no," I decline, shaking my head. "The memories, or lack thereof, still haunt me from last year. It tastes way too good and sneaks up on me, and then I'm puking in the bushes."

It really is the Devil's work. There's black tea, lemon, sugar, rum, brandy, _peach_ brandy, and soda water in it. It goes down way too easy, which is coincidentally the same way it comes back up.

"Just pace yourself," she encourages. "Don't go listening to that son of mine. He's a bad influence sometimes."

I thoroughly enjoy how Edward's parents love me more than him.

"I'm not a bad influence," he counters, looking shocked.

I shoot them the sweetest smile I can manage. "You were the one who wanted to play beer pong using Dragoon Punch."

"Fine, I definitely didn't help the situation," he pipes in, taking some responsibility. "Fun suggestion. Bad idea."

"Yeah, some friend you are," I deadpan, fully aware I'm annoying him.

"I held your hair back, didn't I?"

He did. Which I guess made up for the fact that he purposely got me wasted. Then again, he was also incredibly drunk. I thought at one point he might kiss me, but then my stomach started to betray me, and I had to run to the side of the house and expel its contents all over Esme's hydrangea bush.

It's weird how that memory suppressed itself until now. Not the puking part, but the potential kiss part.

I realize I'm looking at him strangely, and he calls me out.

"What's up?" He's standing a little closer now that Esme's left the room, carrying a plate of food out to her guests.

"Nothing." I take a long drink, letting the sweet liquid burn all the way down to my belly.

"Your face didn't look like nothing."

"Let's go mingle!" I say a little too peppy and obviously to avoid his question.

He looks even more suspicious now. "You hate mingling."

He's right, of course. There's nothing I despise more than forced small talk. But I don't exactly know how I feel about that memory from last year resurfacing. So, if chatting up his random family and friends is going to distract me, I am all for it.

XXX

Turns out mingling isn't so bad when you've had five glasses of Dragoon Punch. In fact, I'm pretty sure it's made me less of an Antisocial Alice. We coined that term years ago, but only the three of us know who it's referencing.

Usually at these get-togethers, I tend to stick with Edward and Emmett, maybe chatting with Edward's parents every now and then. But today, the Dragoon Punch has turned me into somewhat of a Chatty Cathy.

I converse with Esme's neighbor about gardening and raising chickens. I talk to Edward's aunt about her rheumatoid arthritis. I endure conversations with some of Edward's oldest family friends, getting the scoop on what he was like as a kid. It's a good thing he's so damn cute because apparently he got in zero trouble, followed all the rules, and was a real bore. I make a mental note to give him shit about it later.

Eventually, my conversations bring me full circle, and I'm back to Esme. I can tell she's slightly intoxicated with her red cheeks and the way she keeps grabbing my forearm. Sometimes being around her makes me miss my mom. They're complete opposites, though. Meaning Esme is around and Renee, willingly, isn't.

At some point, when I'm past being tipsy and now fully drunk—but in the good way where I'm happy and warm and not feeling sick—I realize my phone is gonna die. I mosey back to Edward's car to grab my charger, thankful we're in the middle of nowhere because the car's still unlocked.

The sun's minutes away from setting, and instead of walking back into the house, I roam around the property until I find a quiet-ish spot involving a very old tree and a rope swing. I set my phone and charger on the ground and let my feet dangle, barely pushing myself. I stare out at the Cullens' land, everything warm and golden from the setting sun.

My phone rings, and I not-so-gracefully lean over, refusing to leave the swing. Four rings in, I'm able to grab it and not fall on my face, which is a win.

"Hi, Dad."

"Hey, bud. How are you?" he asks.

"Fine. I'm at the Cullens' place."

"What's going on? Someone's birthday?"

"Uh, yeah!" I say emphatically. "America's."

Charlie grumbles a laugh. "The Fourth isn't 'til tomorrow."

"True. But everyone celebrates today so they can partake and still make it to work Tuesday."

"Speaking of work," Charlie prompts. I internally groan. "How's the museum? You think you'll try to find something else soon?"

"No. I'll probably gonna become a relic myself," I say lamely, rolling my eyes when Charlie doesn't laugh. "Dad," I drawl. "Can I not joke?"

"Bella," he says, mocking my tone. "You can, but laughing at your jokes doesn't mean I don't worry about you."

"That's because you're my pops. You're genetically wired to worry."

It's not until after I say it that my heart sinks. Renee hasn't checked in for a while, so I guess genetics have nothing to do with caring about someone. He falls quiet, maybe feeling guilty. But it's not his fault Renee sucks as a parent.

"How's Edward?" he asks. "You two still... friends?"

I can hear his eye roll through the phone. "He's confusing, but good," I offer and leave it at that.

"Have you heard from Renee yet?" His tone is nonchalant, but I know better. He worries about her, maybe even still loves her. He'd never outright say it, though.

"Nope." I think back, realizing I don't really remember. "Last I heard was probably six months ago, when she moved to Laguna Beach."

"She still there?"

"Your guess is as good as mine."

Clearing his throat he says, "Well, I won't keep you from your party. Just wanted to check in."

"Thanks, Dad."

I'm about to joke that I'd be dead in a ditch if it weren't for him checking in every week, but it seems too dark, even for me. He tells me to come spend the weekend in Forks soon, and I promise I will before saying bye.

A few minutes later, Edward comes around and saunters over to me. The warm light makes him look absolutely gorgeous.

"I thought you were trying to pull an Irish exit," he says, once he's close enough.

"Really? How would I even get home?"

Leaning against the tree, he lists off: "Uber. Lyft. My neighbor's horse. Steal my car… wouldn't be the first time."

I flick my gaze downward before looking back up at him. "Why were you looking for me, anyway?"

"I wasn't. The house is only thirty yards away, and we can all see you from the deck."

I roll my eyes. "Why are you always so difficult?"

He finds this all too funny. "_I'm_ difficult?"

"Yes! I'm trying to be coy and charming, and you're just ruining it all."

Something flickers in his gaze, and he steps closer, moving to stand behind me. Gently, he starts to push me. I hold on to the ropes, letting the slow back and forth motion lull me into relaxation. We stay quiet, listening to the music thumping from the house.

"You good, though?" His tone is soft, concerned.

"Yes."

"No feelings of nausea?" he teases. "Think you'll actually be awake to watch the fireworks this year?"

"Yes."

"Good."

When his fingers brush my shoulders, my skin raises with goosebumps, and the electric feeling only intensifies. With each push, his hands move lower until they're touching the small of my back, the sliver of skin that's exposed.

His voice is quieter than before when he asks, "Remember the first time we met?"

"Yes. We were at a bonfire at Golden Gardens. Emmett brought you along, and you immediately hated me."

"Why do you think that?"

I shrug. "Obviously I know you don't feel that way now. I somehow tricked you into being my best friend."

His chuckle is soft, warm, and it makes my chest burst. Only a little.

"I never hated you. I've always taken a liking to you, dummy."

"_Taken a liking to me_?" I snort. "Okay, Grandpa."

Even with my back to him, I know he's either rolling his eyes or flipping me off. Maybe even both.

"I'm trying to create a moment here, so if you could just shut up for a minute…"

My stomach twists with anticipation as I fall silent. He doesn't say another word, and I'm about to bring up some random topic to fill the silence, when he speaks.

"My uncle told me I should put the moves on you."

"The uncle who was staring at my boobs all night?"

"That's the one."

I smile, happy he can't see it. "Is this you 'putting the moves' on me?"

"No." I'm disappointed, then he adds, "You'd know if I was trying to make a move."

I don't comment on that.

"Your uncle's pretty crass. I'm surprised he put it so… nicely."

"He didn't. I'm paraphrasing," he laughs. "Your innocent ears don't need to hear what he actually suggested."

"Innocent?" I scoff. "Don't tempt me, Cullen."

"Tempt you to what?" he dares, and I detect a wicked grin in his voice.

I fall short of ideas, at least the ones that I can say out loud to him. Because thoughts of kissing him, his neck, his chest, enter my mind. And then that thought expands to what he might look like naked, how I'd feel under the weight of his body. I think about what would've happened if we'd actually kissed last summer. About where we'd be now, if we'd still be friends or together or whatever.

"Never mind."

He's done pushing me, and I slow to a stop, but he still stays behind me, out of sight. "Say it."

"It's nothing." My cheeks burn so hot, I can feel it creeping down my neck. I'm glad he can't see my face.

"Were you thinking about kissing me?" His voice is low now, softer than before.

"Maybe." It's easier to admit when I can't see him. I keep the rest of my thoughts to myself, though.

A beat of silence passes. I hear him move, and my body tingles when I feel him closer than before, nearly touching me. Turning my head to the side, I look over my shoulder. I was right—he's close, staring down at me with emerald eyes blazing. He's making me nervous in the best way. He's staring at me in the best way.

"You don't have to be weird about it," he admits, swallowing as his gaze bounces to my lips. "I think about kissing you sometimes too."

"Like last summer?" It comes out like more of a whisper than I intended.

"Yes."

"So, why haven't you tried since then?" I ask boldly.

"Because you're usually verbally or physically abusing me."

"Oh, my god," I cry, hopping off the wooden seat. "That was _one_ time, and you didn't even have to go to the hospital."

I'm joking, of course, and we both fall into laughter. It sends the warmest thrill throughout my body. I like when he laughs at what I say. I like that he thinks I'm an idiot, even encourages it. I like that he came out here to find me. He's easily one of my favorite people to be around, if not my favorite. But I'd probably never tell him that. Not now, anyway.

"You look really good tonight," he says, catching me off-guard.

"Yeah? It's too bad I'm not your type."

"It's too bad you don't want to date while we're living together," he fires back.

"Yep. Too bad."

We're grinning at each other like fucking idiots, and it does something big to my heart. I wonder what it will take for one of us to finally cave.

"Hey, nimrods!" Emmett calls out from the house, ruining the moment. "It's time to blow shit up!"

I turn back to Edward, and his eyes are still on me, like he never looked away in the first place.

"Push me one more time?" I ask, but it's not really a request. I hop back on the swing, knowing he'll say yes.

"You got it," he says with an easy grin and a gleam in his eyes.

* * *

**If you're expecting lemons, this story isn't for you. They're both virgins (KIDDING, kidding, don't come at me). **

**Hadley is a true saint and the BEST hand-holder. **


	8. Chapter 8

I'm in the kitchen, eating Pirate's Booty for dinner and revising my resume when Alice walks in.

She shuffles around, opening and closing cupboards, not looking my way but not exactly ignoring me either. I pretend to stare at my laptop, but all my focus is on her or as much as it can be without blatantly staring.

Her short, spiky hair is purple. The last time I saw her it was blue. The time before that, red. I must say, the purple really complements her skin tone.

"Gonna be a hot summer," I say, a lame attempt to strike up a conversation.

She ignores my comment and focuses on pouring herself a glass of orange juice. I mean, as far as interactions go with Alice, this one is fairly normal.

I watch as she grabs the pepper and grinds it into her glass.

Seems I spoke too soon.

"We're throwing Emmett a surprise party next weekend." I'm mostly saying this to let her know it might be a little loud. But apparently she takes it as an invite, because she next thing she says is—

"Can I bring my boyfriend?"

Her back is to me, which is perfect because she can't see the sheer shock that's plastered on my face. There are so many things to dissect, I barely know where to start.

First, she spoke a full sentence to me. Second, even though she invited herself to Emmett's party, this is her first attempt at wanting to hang out with us. And third, the most confusing and craziest piece of information, she has a boyfriend.

Antisocial Alice has a boyfriend, and I don't.

I realize I've been silent for too long. "Totally! Yeah, bring your boyfriend. What's his name?"

With her back still to me, she drinks her peppered orange juice. "Thaddaeus."

"Great, great, yeah. Should be fun. Edward rented a bouncy castle and Em's gonna lose his shit over it."

"Who's Edward?"

_What the actual fuck_.

"Our… other roommate?" I remind her.

Without another word, she disappears into the basement. I wait until I can no longer hear her Doc Martens clunking down the wood stairs to pull out my phone and text Edward.

_Had an Alice encounter. When you gonna be home?_

I keep my message open, watching his bubbles appear. There's no use in trying to revise my resume now. My attention has been fully diverted, and there's no going back.

Edward replies: _Should I call 911? Have you been harmed in any way?_

I smile at my screen. _Not yet. Come hooooome!_

_I'll be there soon_, he types. _I have some news too_.

He has news? I've never been great at being patient, so I ask him what's up. He doesn't say anything else, probably busy driving.

_News_ doesn't necessarily sound good or bad. Just… weird.

With some time to kill before Edward gets home, I decide to wash off my makeup and do a face mask. Don't need another pesky zit to pop up and ruin my life.

Twenty minutes later, Edward finds me in the bathroom, leaning over the sink, plucking my eyebrows.

"What are you doing?" he asks, leaning in the doorway.

"Getting rid of my unibrow."

His laugh is genuine, deep. "You're so weird."

"So? What's the big news?" I ask, quirking a freshly plucked brow.

Hesitating for a second, he moves to sit on the edge of the tub. I turn around, back against the counter so we're facing each other.

"I got a second interview at the firm in LA. They want me to fly out for it this time."

"Oh, wow." I'm about to hug him then second-guess myself. We're not usually huggers, so I opt for a friendly but gentle punch to the arm. "You're gonna be a real adult, Cullen."

He's not really smiling but otherwise seems happy. "I don't have the job yet. But having them fly me out is a pretty big deal."

My chest is so full of pride for him, but I'm feeling a little… sad. Selfish. I don't want him to leave. There's still a chance he'll stay, but why would he? Why _should_ he? He'll have so many opportunities in California, and I want the best for him, I do. I'm just a little bummed is all.

Maybe he senses my mood change because he looks at me sideways and asks what's wrong. I shrug it off, chalking it up to not having eaten an actual dinner yet.

Following me into the kitchen, he starts giving me the details about how he flies out the day after Emmett's party, and that the company is putting him up in some swanky-ass hotel. He jokes that I should come with him, to keep his nerves at bay. I point out that I usually amp him up rather than calm him down. He counters this, telling me that's not always true, that he likes having me around. The way he says it is so sweet and honest. I stand on my tiptoes, wrapping my arms around his neck and hugging him.

I can feel his breath on my neck and his hands tight around my waist. My stomach flutters before a deep, warm feeling creeps into my lower belly. The dude gives good hug. Which is why I pull back, breaking the feeling before it turns into something more.

"Oh! I totally forgot," I whisper, spotting the peppered orange juice on the counter. "Come here."

Grabbing his hand, I pull him into my room and shut the door. I sit on the bed, and he follows my lead, waiting patiently for whatever I have to say.

"It's safer here," I explain. "Alice has a boyfriend, and they're coming to Emmett's party. His name is Thaddaeus," I deadpan.

"It's funny that Alice has a boyfriend, and you don't."

"How dare you," I hiss. I mean, I thought the same thing earlier. But _I'm_ supposed to be the one who makes that joke first, so I can pretend it hurts less.

"You're just pissed you didn't get to say it first," he says, knowing me all too well.

"Whatever. It's just weird 'cause I always assumed Alice was asexual." Edward gently shoves my shoulder like the punk-ass he is. "What was that for?" I shriek.

"For that comment. Just because she's antisocial doesn't mean she's asexual."

"God, it was a joke."

"About someone's sexual orientation."

"Why are you being so sensitive?"

"I'm not." His face goes from serious to calculating. "Are you projecting onto Alice? Are _you_ asexual?"

"Excuse me?" It's my turn to shove him. "I can't joke, but you can?"

"She's not here to defend herself. You are."

"There's nothing to defend! I'm not asexual!"

With a shrug, he says, "You never bring guys home."

"Look where I live!" I nearly screech. "The basement is occupied by a goblin, and the other half of the house is filled with two giant idiots."

He finds this all too amusing. And my reaction isn't helping. This is exactly what he wants, and I give it to him so easily.

"For all you know, I could be staying at dude's places all the time."

"Except you're not," he quips.

Of course he's right, and it pisses me off. "I didn't realize you kept such close tabs on me."

He turns serious, the teasing tone gone from his voice. "I mean… it's not like I want to."

It would be so easy to leave it be, change the subject, or crack a joke. But for some reason, I decide not to.

"Then why do you?" I ask, straightforward.

"You're kind of hard to ignore," he murmurs as his gaze lingers on my face.

"What, is that some kind of dig at me?"

"No." Shaking his head, he adds, "No. It means… that…"

"Spit it out!"

"Give me a minute!" he raises his voice to meet my volume.

"Don't yell at me!" I snap, fully knowing I'm the one who started this.

"Don't push me then," he says softer.

"I didn't push you. _This_ would be pushing you." I shove his arm, but he doesn't smile, so I do it again.

"Okay. Now you're gonna pay for that." He gently grabs my arm before I can shove him again. His grip is firm as he holds it in place, using his other hand to dig his fingers into my side, tickling me. I hate it so much—it's the worst feeling ever—but that doesn't mean I don't like being close to him. I try pulling away, but he's stronger or maybe just more convicted in torturing me.

"Edward," I breathe out, squirming on the bed. "You're such a dick," I laugh, so close to his face.

"Stop shoving me then," he says evenly, keeping his hands on my body and making me laugh in pain.

He finally lets up, but we're still close, and I take a second to catch my breath.

"Jesus, was that necessary?" I scold, straightening out my shirt. All he does is smile, looking a little too pleased with himself.

We fall quiet, but my heart pounds as we stare at one another, the silence deafening. His eyes are on my lips for a beat too long, and it warms my body. I'm not sure what comes over me—maybe I want to torture _him_ this time. Or maybe I finally want to kiss that stupid grin off his face. So I decide, _fuck it_.

Without a second thought, I lean forward to kiss him. It's rough, kind of abrasive at first, the way I smash my lips against his mouth. It takes a second for him to react. Before he can fully kiss me back, I panic.

"Sorry," I blurt, pulling away, my lips tingling.

His brows knit together. "Why are you sorry?"

"For kissing—"

He closes the distance this time, pressing his lips to mine. It's softer than my initial kiss, sweet. Sexy. His hand moves to my cheek, and I scoot closer to him, our lips still moving together like we've been doing this forever. Our mouths part, and a tingling sensation takes over my body when his tongue finds mine.

After a few minutes of slow, deep kisses, his lips trail along my jaw, sucking on the skin between my neck and ear. I release a soft moan, and maybe that little sound encourages him because a sense of urgency erupts, and our kisses turn frantic. Desperate. We scramble to lie back on the bed, so he's on top of me, between my legs, breathing heavy as his erection grinds into me.

There are too many clothes between us, but I don't bother pulling away to fix this problem until his hand snakes up under my shirt, and I decide that I need to feel his touch all over.

"I want more," I breathe out.

Things move even more quickly after that. Still kissing, we try removing our clothes. He pulls off my shirt, and I tug at his before he has to yank it off himself. We stand, lips still attached while he fumbles with my jeans. He trips over his pants, and I laugh into his mouth, so exhilarated by the fact that being with him like this feels natural. Clothes are discarded until we're completely naked and lying on the mattress again.

"You're so fucking sexy," he whispers, lying on top of me, kissing my shoulder.

"So are you."

I feel his smile on my skin, and his erection against me.

"Did you think this was going to happen?" I whisper.

"What's happening?"

"_Edward_."

"Did I think this was going to happen," he repeats. "Tonight? No. Ever?" he asks quietly. "I mean… I hoped."

I can still feel how hard he is and having him _right there_ is making my head hazy. I lift my hips a bit, creating friction.

"Is it stupid that I like you so much but also get annoyed by you?" It's not one of the most intelligent sentences I've spoken, but also… how am I supposed to stay coherent right now?

With a deep, sexy laugh, he shakes his head at my question. He doesn't use words to agree with my statement, but his expression is so fucking wonderful. He stares down at me like I'm the best thing ever, and it makes my cold little heart so damn happy.

I pull his neck down so our faces meet and I kiss him. Our hips roll against each other for a few minutes, and it brings me so fucking close, I can't focus on anything other than him and how fucking turned on I am by how turned on _he_ is.

"Touch me," I pant into his mouth. He hesitates for a second, so I grab his hand and snake it between us, putting it where I need it.

With my heart beating so fast, he rolls off of me, sliding his fingers where I need them.

"Fuck," he hisses, drawing out the word.

As his fingers explore, a moan slips from my mouth. His face is concentration mixed with lust, and it's such a turn on. I clench my eyes shut, and it's quiet after that, just heavy breathing and purposely hushed moans when I come against his hand.

"That was so," Edward leans over, kissing me, "so sexy."

Reaching between us, I grip him, feeling he's harder than before. I slide my hand up and down a couple times before straddling him. His eyes close as I move my hips in small, tortuous circles.

"Bella."

"What?"

"You're kinda killing me here."

"Good."

"Good?" He chokes a laugh. "Can I… can we…"

"What?" I ask, voice heavy with lust, still rubbing myself on him.

"Can we fuck?"

"I thought you'd never ask."

Without another word, I stay on top of him, leaning over to grab a condom from my bedside drawer. We're quiet, and I can feel his eyes on me as I tear it open, sliding it on for him.

When I look up, his gaze is deep and glazed over, focused on my chest. I grip him and carefully, slowly slide down. He fills me, so deep, and it takes a minute for my body to adjust to him. Grabbing my hips, he pushes against me a little too roughly, so I kinda lose my breath for a second.

"Shit," he breathes apologetically. "Got a little carried away."

"You better watch it," I tease, and he lets out the smallest laugh before clenching his eyes shut.

I lazily roll my hips against his for a few minutes before collapsing against his chest, skin on skin, pressing kisses anywhere I can. He bucks against me, groaning out the best sounds, making the most perfect expressions. He palms my breast and lightly pinches my nipple before taking it into his mouth. I've never really cared for that before, but when he does it, it's different. It makes my insides ignite, and my body melt.

His hands are on my ass, our pace faster than before. I almost think he's about to come, but then he rolls us over so he's on top, between my thighs, lifting both my knees so they're bent.

"This okay?" he asks, sweat dripping from his forehead to my chest. It's deeper but good. Another drop of sweat lands in my mouth, which would be completely disgusting, except it's him. And because we're _us_, we both start laughing. With anyone else, the moment would've been ruined. But it's so easy and comfortable with him, and it catches me completely off guard.

Our laughter dies down, and he hooks an arm under my knee, so he can go even deeper, letting out the sexiest fucking groan.

"You feel so good," he pants, pressing a light open-mouthed kiss to my lips. "I don't think I can last much longer."

"That's okay."

"You're not gonna give me shit?"

"No." I bite at his shoulder, and he grips the headboard. "I want you to come."

"You want me to come?" he grits out, his thrusts quick and erratic. "Say it again."

Wrapping my legs around his waist, I dig my heels into his ass, telling him what he wants to hear. He loses it then, burying his face in my neck, and I hold on to him as he lets go, body shaking. My name falls from his lips, over and over. Knowing that I'm doing this to him—making him feel so damn good—is such a fucking turn on.

He stays on top of me as we catch our breath, body heavy and sweaty, and places the lightest of kisses to my neck. When he pulls back to look at me, his expression is warm, almost tender.

And then I ruin the moment with, "Get up."

His laugh is low as he purposely allows all of his weight to crush me. "I'm comfortable, thanks."

I laugh his name. "I have to go pee and stuff."

"Why?"

"Girl things. Like urinary infections and periods."

"You're not on your period."

"I said it to scare you, so you'd get up."

"I'm an adult. Those things don't scare me."

"Congratulations. Now move."

His body shakes with laughter, and I'm comforted by the fact that we're still the same weirdos, despite having just had sex. Edward sighs exaggeratedly before he pulls out, carefully discarding the condom. I throw on whatever clothes I can find and sneak down the hall to the bathroom, happy Emmett isn't home.

When I'm back in the room, Edward is half-covered by the blanket, lying on his side, eyes closed. His face is so sweet like this, lips pursed and—

"Are you staring at me?" he asks, eyes still closed as I discard my shirt and lie next to him again.

"Yes. I'm obsessed with you now, and if you have sex with anyone else, I'll boil your rabbit."

He laughs, opening his sleepy eyes. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"It's from a movie."

"What movie?"

"_Fatal Attraction_."

"Never seen it."

Pulling the blanket up to cover my chest, I ask, "So do we need to talk about what just happened, or are we ending this with talk of bunny boilers?"

With his arm under the sheet, he grips my hip, sweetly pulling me against him. "Let's talk."

"Okay. You start."

"Why?"

"Because I don't actually know what to say."

His smile is so tender, which doesn't match his idiotic comment. "You mean you aren't gonna confess you've been in love with me forever and don't want me to move away?"

I roll my eyes, tangling my legs with his. "You wish, Cullen."

"I've been inside of you. Let's stick to a first-name basis."

I crack up a little too hard. "You're such a bonehead." His eyes stay on my face for a beat too long, making me nervous. "What?"

"Nothing."

"Tell me."

"I like seeing you smile," he admits. "But especially when I'm the one who has made you laugh." I give him a strange look. "You're the one who wanted to know," he chides. "Don't try to make me feel weird for liking you and thinking you're attractive."

His words make my stomach clench in a really wonderful way that's hard to ignore.

"Don't go getting soft on me now," I tease.

"Don't worry," he raises his eyebrows, "I won't."

"Such a guy, directing the conversation to his penis."

With a smirk he says, "It was an obvious segue."

"Yeah, yeah." I fall quiet. "So what, we like… have sex now?"

"Is that weird?"

"Surprisingly no. I found it to be nice."

Disappointment floods his face. "Just nice?"

"Very, very nice."

Rolling onto his back, he places a pillow over his head, muttering, "Are you trying to wound me?"

With a chuckle, I pull the pillow away, leaning over his chest, faces close. "No, sorry." I kiss his lips then his chin. "It was really fucking amazing, and I'm annoyed we haven't done that before."

"Me too," he murmurs.

"I have a question though."

"Shoot."

"Do you tend to sleep with girls who aren't your type?"

"Come on. You know I was messing with you."

Of course, I hoped that was the case. But I didn't know for sure.

"That's no way to get the girl," I scold, playfully narrowing my eyes.

He merely smirks, pressing a sweet kiss to my lips. "Seems like it worked."

* * *

**The UST has officially been resolved. Yer welcome. (AND THANK YOU FOR READING, TRULY. lol)**

**Hadley helped tremendously**—**like verbally, mentally, emotionally... you get the picture.**


	9. Chapter 9

It's a wonderful fucking day.

The sun isn't shining, and Emmett drank the last of the milk, so I had to drink my coffee black, but neither of those things put a damper on my mood. Because when I woke up this morning, there was a note taped to the inside of my door.

_Didn't want to wake you - meet me for drinks before the show? - E_

It might not seem like much, but it's so… intimate. When I read it, heat crept up my body. And I felt… well, things I haven't felt before. Like desire? And so, so much lust. That one isn't exactly a new feeling, but in regard to Edward? It very much is. Especially after last night.

We ended up staying in my bed for the rest of the night, watching season one of _Game of Thrones_. Eventually, we had sex again, which led to some post-coital-spooning, pre-empted by him, which led to us falling asleep and me waking up alone.

I have to admit, I was a little disappointed to find him gone but finding the note on my door totally made up for it.

"What's up with you?" Emmett asks when he walks into the kitchen. He's on his second bowl of Captain Crunch, this time without milk. Watching him eat it dry makes the roof of my mouth ache.

"What do you mean 'what's up' with me?"

"You're smiling."

I scoff. "And that's alarming?"

"Yeah. There isn't a plate of food in front of you, and you didn't just physically assault someone." It's annoying how well Em knows me. "Let's go out tonight," he suggests.

"I'm going to a show with Edward, remember?"

"Word." He pauses. "I thought he was going with Kate?"

"No." _Fuck_. "I don't think she's still going?"

"Aren't they boning?" Emmett wonders.

"No."

Em absentmindedly picks up the note from the table, the one that Edward left me this morning. Before I can snatch it away, he reads it. He slowly brings his spoon to his mouth, loudly crunching the dry cereal. His eyes narrow as he rereads the note, and I swear I see a light bulb go off in his head.

"Oh. So you're boning him."

"I mean, technically I think the correct way to phrase that would be that he's boning me. But no," I lie. "That's not happening."

Em doesn't look convinced. "Uh huh."

"Don't you ever have anywhere to be?" I ask, snatching the note from his hand. "You're always home."

"Don't change the subject."

"Whatever! It's just a note saying 'yo, wanna grab drinks,'" I stammer, downplaying the way it made me feel. "How is that different from any other time we've hung out?"

"He wrote it. With paper. And a pen."

"So?"

"It's like… romantic as fuck."

I snort. "What do you know about romance?"

"I watch _The Bachelor_ sometimes."

"I wouldn't go around telling people that," I mutter, folding the note in half and placing it securely in my back pocket.

Emmett shrugs, unaffected. "Don't hate me 'cause you ain't me!"

XXX

When I'm halfway through my shift, Edward texts me the name of where we're meeting around seven. I Google the place, unfamiliar with it. From the website, it looks swanky, very unlike us. I scour the drink menu, balk at their prices, and give myself a limit of two, which would be the price of six drinks anywhere else. The bar is downtown, though, and close to the venue, so I don't put up a fight finding somewhere else to go.

At the end of my shift, I request an Uber and change in the employee bathroom, pulling on a pair of black skinny jeans, taller-than-I-normally-wear booties, and a vintage T-shirt that I found at the consignment shop on my break earlier.

When I walk out, Marcus looks my way.

"You look different."

I shrug. "I'm wearing mascara."

"No, your mouth, it's like… not frowning."

I think about flipping him off but decide I don't want to get fired yet.

The Uber ride seems to take forever. Rush hour is stupid, but apparently there was a collision, making traffic infinitely worse. I text Edward and let him know I'm so close, yet so far away. He tells me he's already there and that he'll order a drink and a snack for me, even though I'm late.

It's close to seven-thirty when I rush into the restaurant. I immediately spot Edward at the bar, so I sneak past the hostess and make my way toward him.

The very attractive, very obviously flirting bartender is talking to him, but the conversation coincidentally ends when I sit down, and his full attention is diverted to me.

"You made it." He smiles, spinning his stool so he's facing me. "Finally."

"Yeah, yeah. I'm always late. I don't get why you're still surprised by this."

He slides an expensive cocktail my way and a fancy-looking soft pretzel. Or maybe it looks like a regular pretzel but knowing it's $15 makes it seem different.

We face one another, our knees barely brushing, but it's enough to make my stupid stomach flutter.

"So, what's up?" I ask, eyes cutting to the bartender who eventually walks to the other side of the bar. I decide against making a snide comment about her, and I'm surprised when Edward brings her up on his own.

"She has family in LA," he says, when she's out of earshot. "We were talking about the city. Getting some recommendations and whatnot for when I'm there."

I smile a little too sweetly. "I didn't say anything."

"Didn't have to."

Breaking off a piece of the pretzel, I dip it in the grainy mustard. "You don't have to explain yourself."

"I know. But I want to," he says quietly, before his eyes take in my outfit. He tugs on the sleeve of my vintage George Strait concert tee. "Where'd you get this?"

"The consignment shop on 45th," I say, mouth full of carbs. "You know how I feel about 90's country."

"Oh, I know… especially when you're drunk. The amount of times you've made me listen to Brooks and Dunn is obscene."

"Shut up," I laugh, grabbing his shoulder. "You love 'Neon Moon.'"

He stares down, thumb gently brushing over my knee. "Maybe I just like how much _you_ like it."

My insides melt, his charm full-fucking-force. "Have you always been this goddamn cute?"

He grins and shrugs. "Yes."

"Humble, too," I tease, rolling my eyes. "So why'd you choose this place anyway?"

"I don't know. It's close to the venue. We never go anywhere nice."

"With good reason. Emmett usually gets us kicked out."

"True. But he isn't here tonight."

"No, he's not. Speaking of Emmett… he read the note you left me. He's onto us."

Edward frowns. "How'd he read it?"

"Well, I might've had it out when I was in the kitchen."

This makes him laugh. "You were carrying it around with you?"

"Don't make me sound weird."

"Trust me—you do that just fine on your own."

"Whatever. I thought it was sweet you left a note after making me wake up alone. That's all."

"For the record, I did try waking you up. You were dead to the world, though."

"That sounds about right," I agree, taking a large sip of my cocktail.

We order a couple more appetizers to share before it's time to head to the show. It wasn't sunny today, and there's a chill in the air that's hard to shake. We walk next to each other on the sidewalk, arms brushing every now and then. It's like he's purposely bumping into me, but I don't comment on it because I don't want him to stop.

After waiting in line, we make it into the already-packed venue, the opener having just finished their set. The overhead music is loud, though, and so is the crowd. When Edward asks me where I want to stand, he has to kind of yell. We find an okay spot near the back, and I'm still searching the area for a better view when Edward's mouth brushes against my ear. It catches me off guard, giving me goosebumps, and I jerk away.

"That tickles," I laugh, shoving him.

He leans in again, not caring that I pushed him away. "Do you want a beer?" He barely pulls back. I nod, body tingling before he closes the short distance again, purposely letting his mouth linger by my ear. "What kind?"

"Don't care," I say, too quietly for him to hear.

"What?"

I grab the back of his neck, pulling his head down a little, bringing my mouth by his ear this time. "You're such a fucking flirt," I say, and he grabs my waist.

"Only with you." He stares down at me, the smallest smirk on his lips as we take turns whispering in each other's ears.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" I ask, and his grip tightens.

"How am I looking at you?"

My heart races. "Like you want to kiss me."

"I think you know why."

He dips his head, pulling me closer as his lips press against my mouth. I'm not normally a PDA kinda gal. But I've also never kissed Edward in public. And I must say, I don't mind it. Not at all. We're not full-blown making out, but the kiss is sweet, tender. He kisses me a couple more times before we step apart, his hands still on my body.

"I wanted to do that back at the bar when you first got there."

"But you were worried it'd ruin your chances with the bartender?" I joke.

"Shut up," he laughs, eyes wrinkling around the edges. "Do you want me to buy you a beer or not?"

"Yes, please. I'm poor after dinner and those cocktails."

"I paid for everything," he says flatly.

"Which is good because I probably wouldn't have been able to pay for my share."

He laughs at my joke, which wasn't actually a joke, before disappearing to the bar. I can see the line from here—it's pretty fucking long—and he's gone for close to ten minutes before reappearing with two draft beers and… Kate.

I'm pretty sure I'm not able to hide my disappointment when she pulls me in for a hug.

"What a surprise," she says, somewhat flatly. "I didn't know you'd be here, too. I've been looking for this guy everywhere." She has a vodka soda with lime in her hand, and the biggest smile on her face when she looks at Edward.

"I totally didn't remember you were coming, either," I lie, giving Edward a pointed look. His lips are pressed together in an awkward smile, eyebrows raised.

"I texted him earlier today to see when he wanted to meet up, but I never heard back," she explains, playfully frowning at him.

"Yeah, sorry," is all he says, without further details, and hands over my beer.

The lights dim, and the crowd cheers as the band takes the stage. Edward moves to the other side of me, so I'm standing between him and Kate. Leaning down, he whispers that he's sorry. My eyes cut to Kate, her eyes on us, and I suddenly feel self-conscious of even being near him. It's not like she knows we fucked. And even if she did know, does it matter? He's not anything to her. I should be honest; I know this. But now is not the time.

"I'm glad we're in the back. I was worried about getting caught up in the mosh pit," Kate says loudly, glancing past me as if she's looking for an open spot near Edward.

"It's a bluegrass band," I tell her. "No mosh pits."

"I thought they were punk?"

"Nope." I guess I can't blame her; I just would've assumed she'd listen to their music before tonight.

As the show goes on, I try not to let her being here deter me from having a good time. It's not like she's going out of her way to be all over Edward. And really, he _did_ invite her. I will never understand that, but it is what it is. I've been waiting to see this band play live for two years. It would be a shame to be focused on her.

They play every song I want to hear, except the best one which I assume is left for the encore. My chest is full with so many emotions as they play their last song, thanking the crowd for being an amazing audience as they leave the stage.

Kate turns to me, looking surprised. "They were actually really good."

"I know." I'm high off the show, so when I smile at her, it's genuine.

She stands awkwardly, glancing around at the unmoving crowd. "Isn't it over?"

"I hope not. I think they'll do an encore."

"Okay. Meet me by the bathroom? I really have to pee."

She pushes her way out of the crowd, and the band returns to the stage. Another group near us leaves, so Edward moves me in front of him, so I have a better view. The violin plays a familiar opening, and everyone cheers. My favorite tune begins, and I look back, smiling so wide at Edward. If we were the type of people to have a song, this would be it. But only because this is the first song he sent me years ago, the song that made me fall in love with the band and finally admit that he didn't have shit taste in music.

The banjo chimes in before the lead singer belts out the lyrics, accompanied by the audience.

With the first line, Edward's hand is on my waist, pulling me close to him, so my back is against his body. And I've heard this song a million times, we've listened to it a million more together. But something about hearing it now and being so close to Edward… everything clicks.

My pulse spikes, and I listen more intently than I ever have, focusing solely on the stage and the words being sung. Edward gently squeezes my hip, but I don't turn around. I can't look at him yet, don't want to stare at his face as I listen to a song about a guy being friend-zoned.

As the song goes on, it's all so clear. Maybe I should be flattered, but I'm mostly irritated. And it's a total bummer. I'm annoyed he invited Kate to a show that was for us, just _our_ thing. I'm annoyed we never acted on our feelings until now, when he's most likely gonna move to California. Despite all of that, when I finally turn around and kiss him with all I have, every ounce of that annoyance disappears.

* * *

**1\. Hope everyone had a bomb-ass Thanksgiving (if you celebrate)!**

**2\. Hadley is a true gem, for real.**

**3\. I added some new chapters to The Cellar (I know, I know, I should let them go) so if you read that story EIGHT YEARS AGO/are really bored/wanna see what they're up to, it might be fun!**

**4\. Twific Meetup is happening at the end of June, in Austin (my hometown!), and it sounds like it's gonna be a helluva time. Check out the website for more info tfmutwificmeetup dot com (remove the spaces and replace the word 'dot' with an actual dot)**


	10. Chapter 10

Per tradition, we spend Emmett's actual birthday down the street in the dimly lit bar of a Chinese restaurant. It offers quite the trifecta—walking distance of our house, strong drinks, hardly anyone in line to sing karaoke—making it our favorite spot.

It's just the three of us tonight, which is normal. What's not normal is the way Edward's hand finds my leg under the booth, or the way we kiss when Emmett isn't looking. And the more we drink, the harder it is to keep our hands off each other.

The more we drink, the more I forget why we're hiding this, whatever _this_ is, in the first place. It's just so fun being able to kiss your best friend. Feeling giddy, and having stupid butterflies, and all these wonderful, anxious feelings is fun too.

As the night goes on, there are Jell-O shots, which are too boozy, and Emmett insists on having multiple. I post a picture of our trio on Instagram with the owner of the restaurant. He's unpretentious, puts up with our antics on a weekly basis, and enjoys the camaraderie. Of course, I'm biased with my review. This place holds so many fond memories. Also I'm drunk and feeling nostalgic so I want to bring awareness to such a fun and unassuming place.

"Have you packed for your trip yet?" I ask Edward as he slides back into the booth, sitting closer than he was before.

"No." His smile is calculating. "I've been distracted."

Emmett turns his attention to us, asking, "Distracted by what?"

Before Edward has to answer, Emmett bolts from the table as the KJ announces he's up next. He sings _Always Be My Baby_ for a third time tonight. At first it was funny. Now it's just sad.

"It's gonna be so strange not having you around," I murmur.

"It's only four days," Edward reminds me.

I grab a pistachio, focusing a little too hard on thumbing open the shell as I say, "I'm talking about when you move for good."

He's quiet until I look up, meeting his eyes.

"It's not official. But if it does happen, I wouldn't move until after graduation. You're still stuck with me for five more months."

"I like being stuck with you." It's probably one of the sweeter and more honest things I've said to him.

"Oh, yeah?" He grins so wide, leaning over to kiss me then stops short because Emmett can totally see us.

"Five months isn't very long," I mumble. "In the scheme of things, of _life,_ it's a blip."

"I know." His gaze is soft, lips pressed in a small smile. "Come with me this weekend."

"To your job interview?"

"Well, you wouldn't come to _that_. But… yeah. The hotel is paid for. Your flight could be covered by my miles. We could sleep in, order room service…" His eyes light up, but he doesn't mention the other things we could do. "Be lame tourists."

"You're making this way too tempting," I groan, grabbing another pistachio.

"That's the point."

"I don't know if I can."

"Why?"

"I have to work." Even saying it out loud is funny. "Okay, twist my arm. I'll tell Marcus tomorrow."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I'm sure it'll be fine, even though Marcus will be annoyed because I already took Saturday off for Em's party."

Emmett's song ends, and the blonde who goes up on stage next asks him to sing _Fooled Around and Fell in Love_ with her, to which Emmett obliges. She's strikingly attractive to be in a bar like this. I lean over, about to comment that I'm pretty sure we're gonna witness Em falling in love when Edward speaks.

"Did you ever send your resume to my mom's friend?"

I groan. "No. I keep meaning to."

Holding his hands up, he says, "Don't let me distract you."

"Don't give yourself so much credit." I crack a smile. "Okay, you're a _little_ distracting. But that's not why. I just… haven't."

"It sounds like a cool gig."

"Answering phones? How stimulating." I peel the label off my beer. "Besides, is that what I _really_ want to do?"

His brows raise in disbelief. "As opposed to working in a gift shop? I think so."

I slap him arm, but he's right.

"There's room to move up, too. I'm sure they have some writing-related positions up for grabs at some point. Which is what you want to do… right?"

"Yeah, yeah." I look away, not feeling totally comfortable being vulnerable. "I've just spent so much time talking about it and not doing it."

"The only way to break that habit is to do something about it," he offers carefully.

"Okay, Dad. I know."

"Don't 'Dad' me. What are you scared of?"

_Everything._

Things are fine the way they are. Most days. Why switch it all up now only to find out something doesn't work?

"Are you scared of change?" he asks, completely spot-on. It's a blessing and a curse that he knows me so well.

"Dude." I poke his side. "No. Can we change the subject, please?"

He gives me a look, one that's gentle and could possibly pass for patronizing, except it's him, and he's anything but that. "I'm just trying to help, Bella."

Blowing out a heavy sigh, I mumble, "I know, I know. But sometimes I don't want help."

"Okay."

I drop the subject, so he does too, leaving me to spend the rest of the night in a funk. It's so bad that I can barely sleep, even with Edward lying next to me. Stupid things fill my mind—all the worst-case scenarios that could happen in my life. Failure haunts me, but ultimately I think it's the fear of not trying that messes me up the most.

It's just after six when Edward get out of bed. He must think he woke me because his presses a sweet kiss to my forehead then tells me to go back to sleep. I try to, for a good half hour, before I decide to leave bed entirely. Edward's in the kitchen, packing up his stuff for the day when I walk in, rumpled with bed head and dark circles.

His hair is wet, and his face has stubble, and he looks so adorable in the morning.

"You're up early."

"Being up implies I went down," I quip. "But of course, my brain was actin' a fool and I barely slept."

He very sweetly hands me half his bagel. "Acting a fool about what?"

Our eyes meet briefly before I look away. "Just stupid shit."

Taking a few steps closer, he pulls me in for a good morning kiss. His mouth tastes like the remnants of coffee and toothpaste. It sends a surge of energy through my body, and maybe morning kisses from Edward are better than caffeine.

"Tell Marcus you're going to LA until Wednesday, okay?" he says against my lips.

I kiss him goodbye, promising I will.

When I get to work, Marcus looks strange. I mean, he's always strange. But it's almost like he's trying to look normal. Which is strange.

"Oh, good. You're on time for once. Can you sit for a second? I wanted to talk."

"Why?" I ask, confused. We don't _talk_. We barely even acknowledge each other most days. We should really hire some more people.

"I'm moving to Virginia," he says out of the blue.

I sit across from him. "Oh. Why?"

"Because people move sometimes."

I shrug. "Okay."

"Oh, you mean _why_ am I moving," he corrects, but I'm still confused how he misunderstood me in the first place. "My wife's mom wants us to live closer."

"You have a wife?" I blurt.

His face holds zero emotion. "Is that shocking?"

_Yes_. "You've never mentioned her."

"I didn't mention my kids either."

Holy hell, this guy is full of surprises.

"Anyway." He sighs. "I wanted to see what you thought about taking over managing the shop."

"Shouldn't you hire someone with more, like… experience?"

"Basically you're saving my ass if you take over. I don't really feel like interviewing people," he admits, shrugging. "And just think… all this could be yours." He holds out his arms, to the empty gift shop. I don't even know how they're still keeping us employed, to be honest. We come into contact with like, three to ten customers a day. And that doesn't necessarily mean they're buying anything.

I swallow, my throat dry. I can see it now, wasting my life away, looking after the museum gift shop. Managing asshole employees like myself. Turning out like Marcus. Although, okay, I had no clue he had a wife and kids. He must be low-key likable. I just never really saw that side of him.

"I, um… literally don't know what to say." Other than _fuck my life_?

"You don't have to legally _say_ anything; you could just sign this," he says, sliding a change of status form over to me.

I slide it back. "I'm a bad employee."

"You never stole anything, so I'd say you were a _great_ employee."

And that's the qualification for becoming museum gift shop manager: don't be a klepto. Awesome.

"You know, come to think of it, I was your age when I took over the shop, too."

"Stop," I blurt, feeling my chest tighten.

"What?"

"I… can't."

"Can't what?" he asks, confused.

My mouth's dry as I swallow, shaking my head. "I can't do this, Marcus. I fucking hate it here." Just saying it out loud brings me so much joy, I feel like crying.

He's quiet for a beat too long, mouth twisting into a small frown. "Really? I thought you liked it."

"Hell, no."

"That's surprising."

"Seriously?"

"No, not really. It makes sense. I hate it here, too," he admits, ripping up the paper he was trying to get me to sign.

A weird sense of relief washes over me, and for the smallest fraction of time, I feel a sort of kinship with him. Sucks it's too late to bond with him over this shithole.

"Why didn't you ever quit?" I ask, curious.

He merely shrugs. "I got kids, and it's a steady paycheck. Plus I really like museums and getting free admission was a selling point. Why didn't you quit?"

My reason is less complicated than his, and maybe even more disappointing. Because I have no real reason to have stayed this long. I could've quit. This entire time I just endured it, day in and day out. Because staying was easier than not. Doing nothing was easier than putting myself out there.

But I don't want to say that out loud. Not to Marcus. Not to anyone.

Instead I tell him, "It doesn't matter. I'm quitting now."

And with those last words, I walk out the door.

XXX

"Hey, you," Edward greets, kissing me sweetly before sliding into the bench across from me. "You're early."

"Is that a turn on for you?" I joke as I glance up from my laptop.

"Ha, ha," he deadpans. "I mean, kinda."

After I quit my job yesterday, I went home to share the somewhat exciting news with Edward. Unfortunately he already had plans with some people from school so I held off on telling him. He texted a few times while he was out, which I found pretty damn cute. By the time he got home I must've been passed out, but he did slip into bed with me. Waking up next to him is quickly becoming one of my favorite things.

I bummed around the house this morning since I had nowhere to be, then decided to walk down the street to the Chinese restaurant and post up in the back of the bar. Not to get shitfaced, although that was very tempting, but to work on my resume and start the job search. Yes, I realize it's strange the bar is the equivalent to a coffee shop for me. But they surprisingly have better music and unlimited eggrolls. Starbucks could never.

"Did you have fun last night?" I ask, shutting my laptop.

"It was okay," he says vaguely, kind of avoiding my eyes.

"Just okay? You got home after midnight."

"I would've rather been with you," he replies, giving me a small smile. "So what's the big news?"

"I'm unemployed," I announce, smiling so fucking wide.

Edward eyes me. "This is good, right?"

"Yes. I quit."

A warm smile spreads across his face. "Did you get the gig my mom told you about?"

"Well, no. I mean, I'm working on that. I don't have a new job set up yet. I'm applying everywhere I can, though."

He nods, less enthused as he sips his beer.

"Why aren't you happy for me?" I push. "I thought you'd be stoked."

"I am happy. Was this a spur of the moment decision, though? Most people have new jobs set up before they quit their current one."

"Most people don't have to be mentally tortured on a daily basis at their jobs, Edward_._ So, yes, they can afford to stay longer while they job hunt. I, on the other hand, could not."

"I guess you make a good point," he agrees, a little too reluctantly for my liking. "How'd ol' Marcus take it?"

"Marcus is moving, and in a shocking turn of events, he has a wife and kids. But that's a story for another day. He offered me his managerial position, so that may or may not have been the catalyst of why I suddenly quit…" I trail off, internally cringing as I replay my interaction with him. "I couldn't imagine being there, every day, doing absolutely nothing." That suffocating feeling starts to creep in again, and I take a lengthy sip of beer.

"Well. If you think you did the right thing, then okay."

"Ugh!" I groan, kicking him under the table. "Be happy for me! I'm happy!" I blurt, sounding anything but.

A small smirk forms on his lips. "I just want to make sure you think things through. What about rent? Bills?"

I know he's right, and that's why it pisses me off.

"I can pay for all of that," I argue. "I'm gonna get another job."

"I don't doubt that, but job searching takes time. As your roommate, all of that worries me. But as your…" He trails off, thinking of a good term.

"As my what?" I grin, a little too pleased he cornered himself with this topic.

He doesn't fall for it. "As your friend, I'm really fucking happy for you."

"Friend?" I raise my eyebrows. "I think we're a little more than just friends."

Now _he_ grins. "Good. So this means you'll definitely be able to come with me to LA on Sunday?"

"It's probably smarter for me to stay back, apply for shit, save money."

"Right. But I also mentioned I have a shit ton of miles I need to use," he reminds me.

"Miles schmiles. They never expire. Use them on something more exciting."

"Nah."

"You really want me to go?"

"I really want you to go. Think of it as your last hoorah before you start a new job."

"_Maybe_," I say. "Probably."

"We should _probably _book your ticket soon, though, since it's three days away." He grins, so boyishly cute, then says, "Hey, Bella?"

"Yeah?"

"I am happy for you. Really."

"Thanks," I murmur, keeping my gaze locked on his. "I know it's weird to want people to be happy for me over quitting a job, but I really think this is a turning point." My chest already feels lighter despite the slight anxiety of being unemployed. I just need to stay proactive to make sure things fall into place for me.

"I know. And it _will_ be a turning point... after we get back from California."

"God, you're relentless," I laugh. "Fine. I'll go."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Good, 'cause I already booked your ticket," he admits, looking pleased with himself. "There weren't many seats left, so I had to just go for it."

His persistence is oddly charming. "That was presumptuous. What if I said no?"

"Then I'd have to convince you otherwise."

"You think you're that persuasive?" I challenge, fully knowing he probably is.

"Yep."

"And what tactic would you use to convince me?"

Without missing a beat, a sexy grin morphs onto his sexy face. "Let's head home, and I'll show you."

* * *

**Early update due to feeling a little emotionally compromised after completing The Cellar (yes, it was already complete but I added new chapters & now it's done FOREVER**—**you get the picture. A****u revoir my little hipster friends). Now I'll focus on these two idiots, whom I love almost as much as Hadley for all her help!**

**Oh, and in a funny turn of events, I'll be attending the Twific Meetup in June so if you want to have a beer with me and/or endure an awkward conversation (I'm good at those!), you should comeeee! tfmutwificmeetup dot com**

**Thanks for reading! See ya Friday for Em's party.**


	11. Chapter 11

Emmett's surprise party is a success. Then again, our success meter, when it comes to him, is gauged by whether or not someone has to go to the hospital.

We steer clear of any ambulances this year, which is hopefully a sign that he's growing up. When he realizes we rented him a bounce house, though, he nearly cries from excitement then whines we didn't get the one with a slide. So maybe he still has some growing up to do.

The party is halfway over when I see the blonde from karaoke the other night walking through our backyard. It seems like she's glancing around for someone she knows as she walks past different groups of people. I make my way over to her, and she smiles, looking relieved.

"Rose?"

"Yeah! Bella, right?"

I nod, smiling back. "How's it going?"

"Pretty good. I got a call from Emmett an hour ago inviting me to his birthday. He sounded pretty trashed, so I'm legitimately surprised he gave me the right address."

"Sounds like the Emmett we all know and are forced to love."

She laughs, which is a good sign. It means she's into him despite the fact that he's a doofus.

We head inside, and I offer her an array of beverages. She seems no-nonsense, choosing a can of Coors Light and a handful of Doritos. I like her already.

I guide her around the house until we find Emmett debating over which Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle movie was the best. He thinks it's The Secret of The Ooze, and the guy he's arguing with says it's hands down the third one. I leave Rose to it, whispering for her to come find me if they need someone to break it up.

As the night goes on, I roam around, mingling with a few different people. There are some new faces here, from Emmett's bartending job, but most everyone at the party are people Em and I went to high school with. We don't hang out with them often—everyone has their own lives, and most are married with kids. The turn out tonight is good and goes to show how fiercely loyal Em is. Yes, he's a giant-ass idiot, but once he locks you down as a friend, you're in it for life. He's (sometimes) always there when you need him and would (maybe) do anything for you.

I'm in the kitchen with an old friend, Angela, when Rose walks in, in search of another beer.

"How you holding up?" I ask her. "Who won the Ninja Turtle debate?" Angela takes this as a cue to leave, giving me a chance to know Rose a little better.

"Emmett won, of course." Her smile is genuine. "I'm having fun meeting everyone—they're all really nice. You and Emmett went to high school together, right?"

"Right. I've known that los—" I stop myself, not wanting to offend Rose. "I've known him for way too long."

She snorts a laugh. "He's a loser, all right. But I can tell he's kind, and he makes me laugh."

My heart warms a little, hearing her talk about Emmett. They literally met two days ago, and she's already smitten.

"So, how did you and Edward meet?" Rose asks, sipping her beer.

"Through Emmett, actually. He dragged Edward to a bonfire as a potential roommate." I think back to that night, how Edward cracked a joke at my expense without even knowing me. It was then I decided I liked him. I also decided he needed to pay for assuming I'd be cool with his jabbing fun at me. So, I followed him around all night, ruining any chance he'd have at hooking up with anyone. "We didn't immediately kill each other, so it seemed like living together would work out."

"And it did," she offers, smiling.

"Yeah," I agree. "It did."

"Emmett said there's a fourth roommate?"

"Oh. Alice," I murmur. "The three of us have lived together for a few years, but Alice already occupied the basement when we moved into this house a year and a half ago. We don't know her origin."

"Origin?" Rose repeats, laughing.

"She was actually supposed to be here tonight, but I'm not sure where she is."

We hear tapping on the glass door, and I instinctively jump. It's hard not to be on edge when talking about Alice. When I turn around, it's only Edward. He's standing outside, his eyes on me as he smiles my way. He points to his beer and mouths "please." I go to the fridge and grab another for him. When I open the door and hand it over, his fingers purposely brush against mine.

"Thanks," he says through his smile, not letting go of the can or my hand.

"No problem."

I laugh, pulling my hand away before giving him a small, flirty shove.

"You two are so cute," Rose gushes once we're alone again. "How long have y'all been together?"

"What?"

"You and Edward." She watches my face closely. "Oh, god," she mutters, slightly embarrassed. "Am I entirely off on the vibe? Sorry, I just assumed—"

"No," I shake my head, taking a lengthy gulp of beer. "We are. Sort of."

Her laugh is short, relieved. "I was about to say if you're not, you should be. He's really cute."

"I know. It's annoying how good-looking he is," I mutter, but I'm not actually mad about it. "We just started… exploring this last week."

"Is it is rude of me to ask how you were able to stay away from him for so long? I feel like I'd cave, day one."

That's a good fucking question. I think when it comes down to it, having him as a roommate made him off-limits. It was such an automatic label that even though we flirted and danced around our feelings, I just knew he wasn't an option. Besides, both of us were not in a place to be dating when we first met. I imagine if we acted on any lust back then, we wouldn't be the friends we are today.

"It's not rude," I tell her. "I think the best way to explain it without boring you is that it can be complicated when you live with someone."

"Makes sense," she nods. "Emmett said Edward might be moving though?"

"Yeah. We're going to LA tomorrow, and he interviews Monday."

Her eyebrows raise, lips pressing together in a sad smile. "How you holding up?"

"Fine," I answer, almost defensively. "Why?"

Her smile turns apologetic. "I'm not trying to impose. I just thought you might be bummed."

"It's okay. My mom left me for California too, so I'm used to it." I say it as a joke, then realize how not-joking I sound. "God, I'm a real buzzkill," I deadpan.

Rose chuckles, making me feel less stupid. So what if I use humor to deflect how I really feel? That's normal.

We switch topics, and I listen all about her job working as a pediatric nurse. Compared to Emmett, it's too impressive. I'm tempted to tell her to run for the hills. But then I think about Edward and me and wonder if other people would think the same thing. That he has a bougie career lined up for himself, and I'm Bella… the girl who worked at a museum gift shop and is now unemployed.

Eventually Rose excuses herself to use the bathroom. I'm on my way to the living room when I hear the back door open. Seconds later, someone is grabbing me by waist, stopping me in my tracks.

I turn around to find Edward grinning down at me. His hands are still on my body, and I stand on my toes, kissing him quickly.

"Hey, you."

"Having fun?" I ask.

"I am now." I pull back a little, but he keeps his hand on my hip. "I've barely seen you all night. Are you avoiding me?" His tone is playful and so is his smirk.

I grab his hand, pulling him behind me down the hall and into my bedroom. Behind closed doors, I kiss him hard. He grips my waist, so my body is molded against his.

"Not avoiding you," I say against his lips, and I feel him smile.

"You just don't want to do this," he dips his head to kiss me again, "out there, in front of everyone."

Another peck to his mouth. "Right."

"Why not?"

He moves to sit on the edge of my bed, pulling my hand until I'm sitting on his lap.

"Because it's still so new? I kinda like that it's just our thing. For now. Don't you?"

He's quiet. "I don't necessarily disagree."

"I just like the idea of it being ours for a little bit longer before everyone starts hounding us. Like asking if we're a couple, blah blah blah."

"I just want to be able to kiss you when I want, and if people happen to be around I don't want that to be a problem," he says honestly, eyebrows furrowed. "Also, I don't think anyone is gonna give a shit about us, Bella."

"Kate will," I counter. "I want to talk to her first."

"Okay," he replies reluctantly.

Wrapping my arms around his neck, I pull him close, hugging him. We hold each other for a few seconds before I add, "Even though I just said all of that, Rose kinda knows what's up between us." When we pull apart, I grit my teeth into a guilty smile. "She's so perceptive—it's scary."

Edward chuckles, shaking his head. "I don't care if Rose—or anyone else for that matter—knows. Just let me know when I'm in the clear to kiss you whenever, okay?"

"You're making it really hard for me not to jump your bones right now, Cullen."

He grins, hand sliding from my waist, up my stomach, palming my breast. "That's the plan."

My stomach flutters when our lips meet, and the sensation grows when he kisses his way to my neck.

I moan. "What are you trying to do?"

With his mouth still on my skin he murmurs, "Have a ten-minute make-out session before we have to head back out there?"

"Ten minutes might be a bad idea," I tell him, unsure if I'll be able to stop. "Make it five, and you got a deal."

* * *

**Thaaaanks for reading! This was a quickie, which is why I'll see you Sunday in La La Land.**

**Is it creepy if I say Alice totally showed up to the party, they just don't know it? lolll**

**Hadley is the best and if it weren't for her I probably wouldn't be able to update regularly sooo... give it up for HADLEY! :) **


	12. Chapter 12

I'm not sure how we're able to wake up the morning after Em's party to make our 9 a.m. flight, but it happens. Not without copious amounts of coffee and promises of hair of the dog at the airport, of course.

With time to spare before our flight, we mosey through the airport until we find a restaurant that's open. Edward and I each have a Bloody Mary and split the eggs Benedict. When I eat more than my share of the roasted potatoes, he doesn't complain, gladly forking more my way. I find it oddly sweet, and my body grows warm at the gesture. Sometimes being with him feels a lot like love. Despite how true it is, the thought completely catches me off guard, and I inhale a piece of potato, nearly choking on it.

Edward hands me a glass of water. "Do you need the Heimlich?" he jokes, patting me on the back.

I'm tempted to take him up on his offer, so he can rattle some sense into me, but I'm still coughing and can't talk, so I just shake my head.

I'd be an idiot to believe falling in love with him is the craziest thing in the world. He's charming and sweet when he's not being a total pain in the ass. But I like that we give each other shit. Plus, he's my best friend. And whenever I have to list an emergency contact, he's always the first person I put down. Not my dad or nonexistent Renee or Emmett—it's always Edward. It doesn't hurt that he also happens to be wonderful in bed. So, yeah, all signs point to eventually falling for him.

That doesn't mean I'm about to tell him.

"You okay?" he asks once my coughing subsides. "Thought I almost lost ya."

Leaning over, I kiss his cheek. "Not a chance, Cullen."

XXX

With EarlyBird check-in, we're among the first few people to board. Edward chooses a row in the middle of the plane, also choosing the middle seat while I take the less claustrophobic aisle spot.

I watch people walk down the aisles, not making eye contact with any of them, in case they try to join our row and slip into the window seat. I'm pretty sure the flight isn't completely full, so there's a small chance things will go my way.

I shift a little in my seat then turn the other way. I cross my legs, uncross them.

Edward shifts his head toward me. "Stop moving, weirdo."

"I have to pee."

"Didn't you just go?"

"Sometimes I get a nervous bladder while flying."

He nonchalantly flips through SkyMall. "You realize we're still on the ground, right?"

"That's even worse. I can't go pee while we're still boarding because then I'll get stuck in the aisle while people are walking to their seats and putting their luggage overhead. I'm still traumatized from that one time I got stuck behind the beverage cart and had to stand awkwardly idle next to everyone until I reached my seat."

"How horrible for you," he deadpans.

"It was! I was sitting in row 28 and got stuck starting at row 11."

"Maybe you should've used the lavatory at the back of the plane like a normal person."

"Maybe you should just call it a 'bathroom' like a normal person," I quip. "Besides, you're supposed to empathize, not criticize."

"Okay, then don't go to the bathroom right now."

"But it could be a while for us to take off, and even then they don't let you remove your seatbelts right away and walk around the cabin."

Edward laughs, shaking his head, looking at me incredulously. "It's a good thing you're cute, 'cause you're a serious weirdo."

I grin. "Thank you. Now help me with my bathroom dilemma."

"Bella. Just do what you gotta do." He turns his attention back to the magazine.

"Oh, sorry, am I interrupting your enthralling SkyMall read?"

"Actually, yes. I'm in the market for a travel pillow that has a hood attached and a glowing toilet seat."

"You just had to mention toilets."

He laughs, kissing the scowl off my lips. "Go pee. If you get trapped by anyone or anything, I'll climb over the seats and bring you back myself."

I roll my eyes but appreciate his plan, even if it's total bullshit. I make it to the bathroom and halfway back without any trouble. It's as I'm walking up to our row that I see a woman standing near my seat. When I'm close enough, I hear Edward tell her it's taken by his _girlfriend_.

She moves on, and I stand idly while she puts her suitcase overhead and chooses the seat directly behind mine.

"That wasn't so bad now, was it?" Edward teases when I sit back down.

My smile is cheeky. "Nope."

"What? Did you steal some mini bottles of booze while you were back there?"

"No, but I heard you telling that lady I'm your girlfriend."

"Oh." He doesn't look as embarrassed as I hoped.

"Did I miss a conversation?"

"No."

I quirk an eyebrow. "So how long have you been going around telling people I'm your girlfriend?"

"What did you want me to say? 'Sorry, the girl I'm having sex with who happens to be my roommate, _not_ my girlfriend, is sitting here.'"

"Sure. Or you could've gone with the short but to the point explanation of 'this seat is taken.'"

_Now_ he looks embarrassed, and it's so fucking cute.

"I don't care that you called me your girlfriend," I promise, kissing his cheek. "I just have to give you shit is all. You know that."

"Well, ease up a bit, or I'll cancel your return flight and leave you in California."

He laughs a little too hard at his joke, but it quickly dies down when I whisper about abstaining from sex. Then it's my turn to laugh.

XXX

The flight is a little under three hours, and we both end up falling asleep. When we land, I update my Insta-Story, asking for restaurant recommendations while we're in town. And just for fun, while we're waiting for our Uber, I post a candid photo of Edward without him knowing. I only keep it from him because I don't want to feed his ego with the slew of people who are sure to comment with heart emojis.

On our ride to the hotel, we talk animatedly about all the touristy things we'll do, and the driver offers up some suggestions as well. Eventually Edward's interview gets mentioned and while he talks to the driver about his plan and what he wants to do, his hand finds mine. I give him a small smile, watching his face while he holds the conversation, completely lost in his love for architecture.

Check-in is an easy process, and though we're a little early, the clerk at the front desk lets us know it's our lucky day because the room is ready. We thank him, and it's as we're about to walk away that he refers to us as Mr. and Mrs. Cullen. Somehow I contain my laughter, but Edward looks stunned. It's harmless, clearly a mistake, and neither of us correct him to further avoid embarrassment.

When we're alone in the elevator, I poke fun.

"Oh, come on, Mr. Cullen," I tug on his sleeve, pressing a kiss to his chin. "Lighten up."

He laughs a little but it's forced, and his smile doesn't meet his eyes.

I don't tell him he looks like he's contemplating jumping off a bridge because I'm trying to be sensitive for once. He's quiet as we walk down the hallway and even when I excitedly jump around the room, gushing about how nice it is.

He sits on the edge of the bed, toeing off his shoes, and I take the opportunity to straddle him. I love how he immediately he wraps his arms around my waist. It sends a little thrill through my body.

"Edward."

"Bella." It's annoying how he perfectly mocks my tone.

I search his face. "Are you going to be in a weird mood all day?"

"Sorry. I'm not trying to be weird."

"It was funny. It's not everyday I get referred to as a girlfriend and a wife when I'm neither."

He stares at me, swallowing. "It didn't freak you out?"

Shrugging, I say, "No. Did it freak you out?"

"Not at all. It just caught me off guard."

"That's okay," I murmur, fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. My mind trails back to this morning and my thoughts about love. "Sometimes I get caught off guard with us, too."

"I like what's happening with us," he admits, voice lowered. "I like being with you, and I'm so glad you're here."

"And here I thought you were being weird 'cause you got spooked."

With face still serious, he holds my gaze. "I don't spook, Bella. Not with you."

"Dear lord," I murmur, heart racing fast as I close the short distance to kiss him tenderly. "You are so about to get laid."

"Oh, really?" Our mouths meet again, and with his hands moving from my waist to my back, he pulls me closer. "You don't want to go get food?" He gently pushes my hair over my shoulder, pressing a kiss to my neck. "Or we could go sightseeing."

"Are you turning down having sex with me?"

"Just giving you options."

"I don't want options. I want you."

He peppers kisses from my neck to my jaw until he meets my mouth again. He deepens the embrace, tongue brushing against mine. I've started to notice these little things about him, like the way he adds tongue to his kisses when he's turned on. Or the way his gaze goes soft and warm when I wriggle around on his lap. I feel him beneath me, stomach pleasantly on fire, when he groans into my mouth from the contact. Then he pulls away completely, breaking our connection.

"What the hell?" I blurt.

An amused smirk plays on his lips. His fingers lightly caress my skin, trailing up my arm and over my shoulder until they reach the top of my shirt. He pulls it back just a little, so he can see down it. I'm not wearing a bra, and when he realizes this, his eyes glaze over while he stares at my chest.

"Edward," I pant, the pit of my stomach aching in the best way. I move a little more on his lap, creating fricton between my legs, needing him right the fuck now. So I say his name again.

"Yes?"

"Hurry," I blurt.

"Hurry?" he echoes, slowly pulling off my shirt. Carefully he brings his mouth to my breast, sucking, before moving onto the other.

The ache between my legs is unreal.

"I want you," I beg. "Please."

He knows exactly what he's doing. He's good at it, too.

"You want me?" His lips are curled into a cocky smile. "What exactly do you want me to do?"

"Fuck me," I breathe out, fully grinding on him now.

His hands slide from my waist to my ass. "Goddamn, Bella."

We're frantic then. He quickly undresses, and I do the same, then move back onto the bed. Without warning, his lips begin a warm, wet trail leading from my stomach all the way down. Looking up at me from between my legs, he puts his mouth on me, sucking and licking for a few minutes. I squirm on the bed, tangling my fingers in his hair, pushing against his face.

"Okay, you gotta stop," I groan. "Get up here."

He lifts his head and moves to hover over me.

"Condom," I murmur.

He returns prepared, hovering once again before guiding himself inside. With a moan, I grip his shoulders, pulling the weight of him onto me as he thrusts into me.

"Edward," I pant again and again and again. I've never been one for calling out names during sex, but hearing his fall from my lips is such a fucking turn on. From the way his pace quickens, I think he likes it too. So I keep breathing it, volume increasing each time.

"Shh," he laughs into my mouth. "Not too loud."

"I can't help it. It's so good. You feel so good."

"I know," he exhales. "I love the way you feel too."

We move together like that, and I try my best not to be too loud. When I get on top and he sits against the headboard, I can't control myself. This angle is better, hitting me just where I need it. I bury my face in his neck, fucking him, loving him, biting at his skin while he grips my ass. He moves me faster against him, and I pull back, staring at his face and watching what we're doing. The way our bodies move together so perfectly. He's so good-looking, and he's mine, and my heart is bursting for this man.

I'm closer now, but I need a little more. So I move my hand between us, touching myself.

"Oh, fuck," he grits out. "Keep doing that."

I do, loving the way his mouth parts and his eyes grow hooded while watching me. And then I come. I can't tell I'm being too loud until his hand gently covers my mouth. I bite down on his skin because it's too good. Being with him like this is overwhelming and perfect.

As I gain awareness again, he brings my breast into his mouth, pumping into me faster than before.

"Lie back," he murmurs, so he's on top. And then he's sliding into me, filling me again.

It doesn't take long for him to follow, just a few erratic thrusts until he's cursing and breathing heavy against my neck. Just as his breath slows, my name falls from his lips. It's easily the best sound.

XXX

We're lazy after that. A short nap happens and then a long shower together. We make the most of our time, going at it again. There's a bench in the shower, and I rest my hands on it while he fucks me from behind. The angle is kind of weird and uncomfortable, so he sits down for me to straddle him—our bodies slick and wet as they grind against each other. It's slower this time, sweeter. Like we have all the time in the world. He palms my breasts, kisses my shoulder. I'm quieter this time even when the orgasm is more intense.

We eventually get our shit together, keeping our hands off each other long enough to get dressed and find some food. It's a weird time of day, too late for lunch but too early for dinner. We decide not to venture too far and find ourselves downstairs in the swanky hotel bar.

Appetizers are ordered and so are beers. I open my Instagram to see if anyone's recommended any restaurants. There are a decent amount of messages, but I find myself stopping when I see one from Kate.

_You're with Edward? _

"Fuck," I blurt, heat rising up my neck.

"What?

"Kate saw the picture I posted of you."

He smirks, and I'm busted. "What picture?"

I hold out my phone so he can see. He doesn't care, merely commenting that next time I should get his good side.

"Don't be annoying," I chastise. "Every side is your good side, and that's beside the point. Kate knows we're together."

"Why is that a problem?"

He says it so simply and for a second I'm convinced it's not a big deal. Only, it is.

"She wanted a piece of Edward Cullen, and I never told her I had feelings for you." Mostly because I didn't recognize my feelings until she came around. I always assumed Edward would be there to flirt with me, to be my best friend, to annoy. It wasn't until that got threatened I realized how much I enjoy being around him.

"It's just a photo of me standing with some luggage." I watch him dip a polenta fry in garlic aioli, not the least bit worried. "It's not like we're making out for the camera."

"Right."

"She knows we're friends, Bella. If anything, we're just traveling together."

"Just the two of us?"

"She doesn't know that. Maybe she'll assume we're traveling with friends." As usual, he's the voice of reason, his words making me feel slightly less panicked.

I glance around the bar. "Good idea. Should I post a picture of the person sitting over there and pretend like they're with us? To cover my tracks?"

"Bella. There's nothing to cover. Nothing was gonna happen with me and Kate, anyway. Yeah, we hung out a few times, but she always initiated it. It was never romantic. Not on my end at least."

"Doesn't matter who initiated it," I mutter, and I find myself actually getting annoyed. "This is partly your fault, you know."

"How?"

"You kept hanging out with her!" I blurt, realizing this is something I'd been holding onto for a few weeks now. "Like, hello? Who hangs out with someone they think is boring?" I drop my gaze from his, frowning a little.

"Hey." He's quiet until I look at him again. When I do, there's guilt plastered on his face. "I'm not gonna say I was using her to piss you off because that wasn't my intention. I also can't say that part wasn't kind of appealing but only because it let me know that you had actual feelings for me," he admits. "I know it's shitty. And I'm _sorry_. But I swear I never said or did anything to lead her on. I wouldn't do that."

I appreciate his apology, but jealousy and irritation still tug at my heart. "You're the most flirtatious person I know," I say dryly. "Even if it was innocent, I swear she thought otherwise."

"Just because people might flirt with me doesn't mean I reciprocate," he counters. "I'm not a bad guy, Bella. I definitely wouldn't sleep with someone then send them home five minutes later without a ride. Or call them a bitch."

Oops.

I should feel slightly guilty, but I'm mostly annoyed Kate had the audacity to mention it to Edward.

"She actually told you all of that?" I ask incredulously. "I can't believe her."

"I can't believe you." He seems amused, which is good, but I still feel stupid. "Why'd you say all that?"

"Because I was trying to sabotage her chances with you. Duh." My cheeks feel like they're on fire. It's strange. Being vulnerable with him just an hour ago, while we were having sex multiple times, was fine. But admitting that I purposely tried to ruin his chances with someone because I like him makes me embarrassed. "So why didn't you mention you knew I said all that shit before now?"

"Because it didn't come up. And it doesn't matter. I thought it was funny and admittedly kinda cute that you were jealous."

"Well, I'm _sorry_," I drawl, sounding anything but apologetic. I realize it could've been worse—he could've actually kissed her, or God forbid, slept with her. I'm only human, though. It's still hard to let go.

"I'm sorry too."

I sigh. "I know. Let's just drop it. I'll figure out how to tell her, but… not now. I don't want to think about it anymore."

"I don't want you to be upset."

"I'm not upset. Mostly confused."

He searches my face. "About us?"

"No. Can we just drop it?"

"Okay."

This is a new territory for us. I've never had a real disagreement with Edward. Our fights are usually just banter laced with flirtation, not real issues that are affecting us. It's frustrating, because no one is really at fault here. It's not like he and Kate hooked up. And it's not like I even recognized my own feelings until she came around. It's just a shitty, messy situation that's probably turning into something bigger than it needs to be. So, for now, I need some space from it. For now, I'll hold off on my reply to Kate in hopes that my silence will fill in the blanks.

* * *

**Puffy hearts to you for reading and to Hadley for all her support. :)**


	13. Chapter 13

The morning of Edward's interview, he's buzzing with nerves. He's not usually like this, always calm and level-headed. So I try to stay out of the way, letting him do what he needs to do.

I order room service for breakfast, but he only drinks the coffee, even when I offer him a bagel that's already spread with cream cheese. He obsesses over which shirt to wear, eventually asking for my help. I tell him the white button-down looks best and suggest he skip the tie when he adds a matching navy jacket to go with his slacks.

It's hard not to convince him to stay in bed, so I can undress him. But we have time later.

When he goes to kiss me goodbye, I tell him he'll do great and remind him that he's only feeling nervous because this is important to him. With a long, sweet hug, he whispers thanks before he leaves.

I take a long shower and spend that time debating on whether or not I should reach out to Renee while I'm here. I haven't heard from her in a while or seen her in years. I know I haven't made much of an effort with her, but one can only be let down so many times before it starts to become embarrassing. If I found out she was near Seattle and didn't attempt to see me though, I'd be hurt. So that's what leads to me calling her. To my surprise, she answers on the second ring.

"Hello?"

I always find it weird when people answer with that, even though they know who's calling.

"Hi, Mom."

"I was just thinking about you," she gushes. "Must be cosmic interference."

"Maybe." I lightly chuckle because I don't know how else to respond. "How are you? Are you still in Laguna?"

"I'm actually very at peace right now." She sighs. "The ocean has done wonders for me. It's just like they say—the cure for anything is salt water."

"That's… good. Wait, so you are in Laguna?" I repeat.

"Yes. Oh, you would love it here."

"Funny you should say that, 'cause I'm actually in LA."

She squeals. "See? It's cosmic, baby. I was thinking about you, and you're here."

"Well, I'm here with a friend. He has an interview today. But yeah… are you free? We could probably rent a car and visit you tomorrow. We fly out on Wednesday."

"Tomorrow, tomorrow," she rattles off, like she's looking at a calendar though I know she's not. "Tomorrow is perfect. You can meet Raoul."

"Raoul," I echo, disappointed. "I was hoping to just see you."

"Raoul is part of my life. To know me is to know him."

I refrain from saying I don't actually know her and that part of me doesn't necessarily want to meet her latest infatuation.

First it was Charlie, then Collin, Peter, and James. And now, it's Raoul. I'm sure there's a plethora of men sprinkled in there, ones I haven't met or even heard of. I wonder how long she'll let Raoul stick around—anything after the initial honeymoon phase doesn't last.

She pulls me out of my thoughts, promising to text me her address at some point today. I half believe her, and my thoughts wander again, coming up with different excuses she might use to back out. It's hard not to be pessimistic about her. She's all about the promises, and when those don't pan out, she's all about the rain-checks which never happen. Following through is hard for her, but being a parent is harder.

She gushes about how excited she is to see me, but I don't return the sentiment. Instead, I tell her I'll see her tomorrow and hang up before she has a chance to say anything else.

XXX

Edward returns to the hotel around eleven. He's all grins and contagious excitement as he tells me the interview went exactly as he'd hoped. They said they'd call him within a few days to let him know their decision. He claims to be glad to have some time to think over if he wants to accept their potential offer. But I know he wants it. He'd be stupid not to, and I tell him as much.

The rest of the day is spent exploring LA. We go hiking and take selfies with the Hollywood sign. We grab some beers at a local brewery and take goofy pictures with different stars at the Walk of Fame. I decide fuck it and post it all to my Instagram.

We stroll along Venice Beach, stopping in different stores, until we're eventually hungry for dinner. I'm on my second spicy margarita when I decide to bring up Renee.

"What do you want to do tomorrow?" I ask, stabbing cubes of ice in my drink with a paper straw.

Edward shrugs, taking a bite of his fajita burrito. "Don't care," he says around a mouthful of food.

"Do you think—" I start to ask, then stop.

Some food falls out of his burrito and onto his plate. He's focused on that but asks, "Do I think what?"

"That we could go to Laguna Beach?"

"Why? Because it was your favorite MTV show back in the day?" he teases, reaching for his Modelo. "You already dragged me to that one restaurant today. I can only handle one reality-show destination per trip."

He pretends like he didn't enjoy the goat cheese balls and craft cocktails we devoured at Lisa Vanderpump's restaurant.

"That's not why I wanna go to Laguna," I counter, leg bouncing. "My mom lives there."

Recognition flickers in his gaze. "That's right."

"If you think it's weird, I can go alone."

"Of course I wanna go with you. You've just never had anything good to say about her," he says, choosing his words carefully. "Are you sure you want to put yourself through that?"

Picking up my fork, I push some leftover taco bits around my plate. "No. But I think I should see her."

"Okay. We'll make it happen," Edward agrees easily. "If you're sure."

"I should warn you—she's eccentric. And that's putting it nicely."

He takes a swig of beer, smiling with his eyes. "So you take after her?"

"Not even close. She's... you'll see."

"Should I be worried?"

"Hardly. She's not dangerous. She's just not your typical parent… or human in general."

"Like I said, you take after her."

"Ha ha. You think you're so funny." I pick up a black bean from my plate and toss it at him, laughing when it hits him in the face.

"I don't think I'm that funny," he says, wiping his cheek. "But I like making you laugh even if you're laughing _at_ me."

"I was laughing at how good my aim was," I clarify. "The laugh I gave you was fake."

"So what else are you faking?" he questions with raised eyebrows. I know what he's really asking.

I shoot him a small, sincere smile. "Nothing. Everything else is very real."

"Everything?" he asks quieter, eyebrows disappearing into his hairline.

"Are you kidding me?" I'm shocked he has to ask about the sex. "Especially that."

A smirk plays on his lips as he runs a hand through his hair. "Good."

"I'd even be willing to say you're the best," I admit. Of course it's true, but I also want to stroke his ego a bit since I did just assault the guy with a legume.

"The best," he repeats, slightly smug. "Funny, 'cause I feel the exact same way about you." He shifts in his seat. "But we need to grab the check because all this talk about sex is making me—"

"Pop a boner?" I blurt, laughing.

He gives me a look. "Not yet, but—"

"That's actually kind of sexy," I admit, voice lower. "In fact, it's kind of turning me—"

"Bella?"

"Yes?"

"Please shut up. You're not helping."

I pretend to zip my mouth closed and keep my distance until we're back in the privacy of the hotel room.

XXX

We wake up early the next day, which serves zero purpose because renting a car takes way too long. There's no real reason for the delay other than the employee who's helping us takes his sweet time. It's not until after ten that we're on the road and heading south to Laguna.

GPS insists the faster route would be I-5, but we decide to take the long way—drive just north of Long Beach then cut over and take Highway 1. It's the scenic route for sure, the Pacific Ocean looming in the distance. It's worth the extra time.

I'm nervous during the ride there. If Edward notices, he doesn't comment on it. Instead, he lets me pick the music, which never usually happens, and holds my hand when driving allows.

Eventually we arrive in Orange County. We drive through the bougie beach town and up a few winding roads until GPS lets us know we've arrived at our destination. The house is the epitome of a West Coast mansion—multi-level, on a hillside complete with panoramic ocean views, and easily a million dollars. When we get out of the car, I'm convinced we're at the wrong place. I'm about to tell Edward as much, but then the front door opens and I see Renee. At least, I think it's Renee. She's waiting patiently at the end of the porch, gracefully waving at us. The red long-sleeved silk dress she's wearing floats behind her as the wind blows.

I'm freaking shook.

Edward looks over to me for confirmation, quietly asking, "Is that your mom?"

"I don't know what that is," I answer honestly.

We walk up the inclined driveway until we're close enough for her to reach out and pull me into a semi-warm hug. She looks me over, smiling. I do the same, minus the smile. She's skinnier than I remember, though it's been years. Her hair is a dark auburn, and it's rich, like she recently colored it. She's wearing makeup—a lot of makeup. I mean, she does look good. I've just never seen her in a dress before or with a full mouth of lipstick or so… put together.

"You look radiant," she tells me before moving onto Edward. I'm wearing black skinny jeans, one of Edward's T-shirts—which looks better on me by the way—and unwashed hair. Radiant doesn't cover it. "You must be the friend," she says, looking at Edward.

"Yeah. I'm Edward. It's nice to meet—" She ignores his hand and pulls him in for a hug as well.

"Before I can invite you in, I must do one thing." She disappears inside the door then returns with a bundle of sage. We watch in silence as she lights it, wafting the smoke our way. "To rid you of any negative energy."

"But that's what makes me so charming," I joke, earning a laugh from Edward. Renee's too busy cleansing the air to appreciate my joke.

"Okay." She closes her eyes, nodding once before blinking them open again. "It's gonna take some work to rebalance your chakras, but we have time."

I'm about to ask her what that means, but she spins around, and we follow her inside the immaculate house. The ceilings are tall, and everything is beige or white. The furniture, the decor, the floors—everything pale. She's a stark contrast as she floats throughout the space. I've only been to one of her other homes before when she lived in a small town in northern California. That duplex smelled like curry, had orange shag carpet, and could've fit in this foyer. Renee definitely had a glo-up.

"Meet me on the balcony," she instructs, waving her hand in a general direction. "I'll grab libations."

When she's gone, Edward and I exchange a look.

"She doesn't seem so bad," he whispers while I lead the way, trying to find the balcony.

I think back to the last time I saw her, when I was twenty-two. I'd taken a road trip to visit her, despite Charlie's disapproval. Before I arrived, she made so many promises of all the things we'd do. Instead, I spent the majority of that trip alone while she wasted time in the casino with her gambling-addicted boyfriend, James. So, yes. In comparison to that version of Renee, this one might not be so bad.

I haven't met Raoul yet, but I can guess exactly what he's like. The one constant with Renee is that she takes on the personality of every man she dates. I just wish she'd eventually figure out who she is and be okay with that.

XXX

Edward and I find multiple balconies but figure Renee meant for us to meet her on the largest one. It wraps around the entire back of the house, has multiple seating areas, a fire pit, and a hot tub.

"Not a bad view, huh?" Edward whistles, staring out at the horizon.

"No shit," I mumble, watching the waves crash along the shore. "How much you wanna bet this house is for sale, and Renee broke in?"

"She wouldn't do that. Would she?" I shrug. I don't actually think that, but I'm always a skeptic when it comes to her. "Hey," Edward says, slipping a hand around my waist. "When you wanna go, just say the word. Okay?"

I give him a quick, sweet kiss. "Okay."

When Renee reappears carrying a tray, Edward and I sit together at the end of the plush outdoor sectional. There's a coffee table in the middle, and we watch quietly as Renee gets situated.

She hands us each a murky glass of orange liquid. "I hope you like kombucha."

"Me too." I take a sip, wincing slightly at the sour taste.

"I'm so glad you're here," she says, which kind of catches me off guard. "It's been a few years, hasn't it?"

I nod. "Yeah. Like, five years actually."

"Gosh. Time flies." She brushes her hair over her shoulder, and I notice a nice-sized rock on her left hand. "How was the drive here?"

I look at Edward, shrugging. "Fine. Easy. Uneventful."

"Wonderful."

"So when did you move into this place?" I ask, my backward way of figuring out how the hell she—or the person she's currently engaged to—can afford to live in a place like this.

"About six months ago." Her gaze drifts past me, eyes lighting up. "Speak of the devil."

Edward and I turn around to see an older man with silver hair walking across the balcony. He's wearing a white muumuu and has a blinged-out ring for eight of his ten fingers.

"This is Raoul," Renee introduces. "He has brought so much healing into my life."

"Welcome to our home," he greets, voice rich with an Arabic accent.

Instead of shaking my hand, he holds it with both of his, offering five seconds of unbreakable eye contact. He does the same to Edward. It takes every ounce of self-control not to die laughing.

When he walks over to Renee, she stands, and they melt into an embrace. Their kiss is too passionate for us to be sitting here watching. I'd barf a little in my mouth, but I'm worried I'd have to taste the kombucha again.

They finally pull apart.

"I would love to stay, but I have an appointment," Raoul says.

Renee sits back down but keeps her eyes on him. "He's very esteemed in his field."

"What do you do?" Edward asks politely.

"A little of this, a little of that." Raoul smirks. "I offer my services to people all over the world."

"What services?" I push. My first guess would be that he's a drug dealer or a cult leader. The latter makes me feel instantly creeped out, so I hope for Renee's sake he just slings coke.

"I'm a Reiki practitioner," he says, and I somehow keep a straight face. "I also provide psychic and tarot card readings on the side."

So he's a scammer.

"Raoul has a huge online following and Skypes a lot of his clients," Renee explains. "Some even live overseas. He's so gifted."

"Please. I'm blushing," he coos.

I know I just met the guy, but I kinda hate him. Not him, specifically, but his kind. The people who claim to have powers and help people, when in reality they're just providing them with vague details and charging a shit-load for it.

"Maybe I can work on you later, Bella?" Raoul suggests. "Renee tells me you hold a lot of tension."

I offer a tight-lipped smile, keeping to myself that whatever tension I have is because of her. Edward must sense my discomfort because he stretches an arm out along the back of the couch so it's behind me.

"Please tell me you'll stay for dinner?" Raoul asks, hands parted in front of him, as if he's offering me something.

"Oh, I don't know." I look over at Edward, who says it's up to me. "Maybe. We have an early flight, so if it's not too late."

Raoul disappears, and the three of us sit in silence for close to a minute. It's awkward on my part, but Renee doesn't seem to catch on enough to start the conversation again.

"So he seems… nice," I begin.

"Truly." Renee beams. "I don't want to talk about him while he's not present, though. Tell me about why you two are visiting."

"Edward was interviewing with an architecture firm. He's really esteemed in… stuff." Edward chuckles at this, brushing his fingers over my shoulder.

"You must be intelligent," Renee gushes, looking directly at him. "Especially to be with Bella."

"Oh. We aren't… we're not like, together," I stammer. I'm not gonna have this conversation with her. I'll entertain her in other ways, but my relationship with Edward is off-limits.

"That's not the vibe I'm getting. I feel you two are very connected. It's almost overwhelming." She says it as if her makeout sesh with Raoul wasn't equally overwhelming.

"Overwhelming how?" Edward asks, genuinely curious.

Renee focuses intently on us then frowns. "There is a matter of contention. It's faint, but it's there." Her eyes are only on Edward now, giving me a chance to roll mine. "You care about her," she says softly.

"I do," Edward agrees.

"What's holding you back?" she asks, eyes on me this time.

_You_, I want to say. _I have abandonment issues because you left me, which has resulted in anxiety and intimacy issues in other aspects of my life. I'm scared to fall in love because I don't want to get hurt, and I can't trust people because you—the one person I was supposed to be able to count on in life—fucked me up emotionally. So instead of fully acknowledging how I feel about someone, I shut down and pretend to be less interested and less in love than I really am._

"Nothing," I say instead, shrugging as I change the subject.

* * *

**Thank you for reading! And as always, many thanks to Hadley!**


	14. Chapter 14

Despite my apprehension, Edward and I end up staying for dinner. Raoul prepares an extravagant meal all on his own, turning down our offer to help. The four of us indulge in a couple bottles of wine, the conversation flowing surprisingly well.

I have to say, out of the few men I've met through Renee, Raoul is the most well-rounded. I mean, the bar has been set pretty low but still. He's not passed out drunk on the couch. He's not shamelessly eyeing me in a way that's completely inappropriate. For a hot minute, I don't feel as worried for Renee as I have in the past.

As dinner comes to an end and I've hinted that we should probably get on the road, Raoul decides this is the time to ask me why I'm a skeptic about his work.

"I never said I was a skeptic," I insist, keeping my tone friendly. I mean, I _thought_ it of course. But now he's a mind reader too?

"You didn't have to verbalize it. I can sense it."

"I'm not against it. I just don't know much about it," I shrug. "If that's your sole income though, keep doing you. Apparently it's working out."

"I do well for myself, yes." His smile is satisfied but not pompous. "Why don't you let me show you what I do?"

I swirl the wine in my glass. "How?"

"With energy healing."

I snort. "You have your work cut out for you."

"It only works if you're open to it," Renee chimes in.

Instead of telling them I'll pass, I reluctantly agree. I'm not trying to outright offend the dude, and maybe part of me is a little intrigued.

"Should I come with?" Edward offers.

"She'll be more in tune without you there," Raoul explains. "Distractions are no good—and you are most definitely a distraction to her."

Edward ignores him entirely. "Do you want me there?" he asks again, looking at me.

"It's okay," I tell him, giving him an I'm-sorry-I'm-leaving-you-alone-with-my-mom look.

We leave Renee and Edward at the dining room table and head downstairs to Raoul's office. The room is dim, calm. There are crystals everywhere, salt lamps glowing, and a flat padded table in the middle of the space.

"Please." He gestures toward the table, and I hop up. "Lie down. If you want to stop at any point, please say so." He busies himself in the corner of the room then returns with a bowl and a wooden striker. "I will honor your space with your need for healing." He holds the bowl above my stomach, running the wooden piece around the edge of the bowl to create a low, humming sound. It's actually quite nice, but I'm still slightly on edge.

"We're going to work on your heart center," he explains, setting the bowl down. "We will begin."

Raoul leaves his spot standing next to me to sit in the chair at the top of the table, behind my head. "Relax," he murmurs in a soothing voice. "Close your eyes." So I do. "Breathe." I do that, too.

The room is quiet—he's quiet. It takes a couple of minutes for me to feel comfortable, but eventually it happens. He places a palm to my forehead, telling me he'll begin working his way down. It's strange, but I try to relax and focus on my breathing. His hands hover over different parts of my body—my collarbone, my heart, my stomach. My eyes are closed for most of it, but sometimes I crack one open just to see what he's doing. Which isn't much. Eventually, I can sense his presence at the bottom of the table, and he announces he's done. I don't feel any different. Mostly just weirded out and slightly tired from having my eyes shut.

"You have built many walls."

"Tell me something I don't already know," I say dryly.

"They will only deteriorate if you put in the work. I can refer you to someone in Seattle if you'd like."

I swing my legs around and dangle them off the table. "I think I'm good."

"Would you like a reading before you go?"

"Sure, why not?"

I follow him across the room, and we sit side by side on the couch. Grabbing a deck of cards, Raoul taps them a few times with his index finger before shuffling. He cuts the cards into different piles then gathers them all together again, choosing three cards. He lies them face up on the coffee table in front of us.

"So…" I prompt.

"Yes?"

"If you see I'm gonna die soon, will you not tell me? I'd like it to be a surprise."

"It doesn't work like that," Raoul says, giving me a tiny smile. "These cards will provide guidance in your life. Not answers."

I stare down at the cards, not knowing what any of the pictures mean. Off the bat, though, none of them look particularly pleasant. Raoul picks up the first one. It has a man on a horse, six swords surrounding him.

"The Six of Wands," he murmurs, holding it in his hand for a few seconds. "This card can predict success or a promotion in your career."

I breathe a laugh through my nose. "Really? 'Cause I just quit my job," I tell him. Thoughts of Marcus offering me his position flash in my mind, but if that's the card's idea of a promotion, it can fuck right off.

The second card—a skeleton dressed in black armor, riding a white horse—is upside down.

"Death," he breathes out.

"Dude. What did I tell you about that?"

"It doesn't mean you will die. It typically represents the end of a cycle, a new beginning."

"Oh. Cool."

"Not in your case, though. You see, it was reversed or upside down. For you, it represents your fear of change. Stagnation."

"Wonderful," I grumble.

Raoul grabs the last card, hesitating. "The Tower."

I lean over him a bit, looking at it. There's a lot going on—a tower being struck by lightning, fire crawling out of the top, and two people falling from the windows.

"Looks promising," I say sarcastically.

"It's not. This signifies a break-up or an argument. A sudden upheaval, broken pride."

"An argument? Over what?"

"Only you will know the meaning behind it," he tells me vaguely.

"Okay. Well you basically just told me my life is shitty… or it will be. People pay you to feel like crap?"

Raoul clicks his tongue. "This is meant to guide you with your decisions. It doesn't give you answers. Now that you know what lingers in the future, you can work toward goals to manifest the change. Whether you want the cards to play out or not... that's up to you."

What a load of shit. I don't tell him as much, but my expression must be pretty easy to read.

"It's not for everyone," he says, putting the cards back into the deck. "That'll be five hundred dollars."

"What?" I balk.

"Joking, of course. Free for family. But if you'd like a second reading, it will be half-price."

I force a laugh, standing. "That first reading was pretty bleak. I think I'll pass."

"Suit yourself. Just know that I don't choose the cards—the cards choose you." He presses his palms together. "Please beware, though. The cards are rarely ever, if at all, wrong. Be compassionate toward the Universe. It only means well."

I appreciate his consistency to the craft. I mean, the guy really believes all of this. If I were emotionally compromised, I might believe all of it, too. Instead, I ignore his last little tidbit, not needing his bizarre pep talk or his phony insight into my future.

* * *

"We're so, so proud of you," Esme gushes, leaning over to kiss her son on the cheek.

"Mom. Come on."

"What?" She chuckles, ignoring his embarrassment. "You worked so hard. Appreciate the moment, and let us celebrate you."

The day after we got back to Seattle, Edward got the call offering him the job. Of course, he accepted it. It's what he's wanted the most, and we couldn't be happier for him.

"Maybe I'll move out there with you," Emmett announces. Rose and I both roll our eyes. "Might be time to get serious about my career."

"What career?" I tease.

"My reality TV career."

Everyone at the table erupts into laughter, including Em.

"When do they want you to start?" Carlisle asks Edward, grabbing a bottle of red wine and refilling his glass.

"January," Edward says, eyes shifting to me for a moment. "After graduation."

"What are you gonna do without him?" Emmett asks, poking fun at me this time.

"The same thing you're gonna do," I quip. "Cry every day."

This creates laughter too, but I'm not sure if it was a joke. Edward shoots me a soft smile, bringing his hand up to my shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze.

"If you're not leaving until January, then you'll be home for Christmas." Esme smiles. "Bella, Emmett, will y'all be joining us again this year?"

"It's not for a few more months," Carlisle chides. "Do we have to talk about Christmas right now?"

"Oh, shush." Esme waves him off. "I like to be prepared."

"You don't mind us crashing your holiday?" I ask, laughing lightly.

"Nonsense. The more the merrier," Esme says sweetly. "I love having you two over. So does Edward." She winks at me.

After dinner, I find myself in the kitchen, helping Esme clean up, while everyone else plays a competitive game of Scrabble. We small talk about this and that. She tells me about the current novel she's reading in her book club and how she's excited to see the movie when it comes out next month. When she asks if I'm reading anything, I tell her about the book I'd started reading on the trip back from LA.

She gives me a knowing smile. It takes me a second to realize why she has a questioning, but hopeful, look in her eyes, and then I catch on—she was unaware I went to LA with Edward… until now.

I know it doesn't really matter. We're adults; we're allowed to do adult things together. But I more or less just told her I'm banging her son. So yeah, I feel weird. And because I'm awkward as fuck, I don't say anything else to try to save the moment. Luckily it doesn't need saving because Esme, equipped with grace that can't be taught, merely says she's glad Edward is happy then carries on washing the dishes.

"I nearly forgot," she says, shutting off the water when the sink is empty. "I heard you reached out to Ben about the position at his startup."

I nod, smiling. "I did. I interviewed two days ago and was offered a position on the spot. I start next week. I'll be manning the front desk and taking online orders for now. He was really excited to hear about my following on Instagram and hinted that managing their social media accounts might be a possibility later on."

"That's wonderful!" She hugs me, smiling fondly when she lets go. "I'm so glad it worked out."

"I appreciate you setting all that up."

She waves me off. "I just gave you the information. They offered the job because of _you_. Be proud of yourself."

"Well, still." My chest feels funny, warm, and I decide to just take the compliment. "Thank you."

"I think you're gonna really like Ben," she muses, leaning against the counter with crossed arms. "He's really driven."

"Yeah, he seemed cool. Younger than I was expecting. How do you know him?"

"He's my friend Rita's son." She refills both our wine glasses, just as Edward walks into the kitchen. "I think you're gonna be in good hands with him."

"With who?" Edward asks, eyebrows raised as if he's jealous.

I roll my eyes. "Ben. My new boss."

"There's a lot to be celebrating tonight," Esme says, a twinkle in her eye. "New careers, new relationships."

I stay silent, and Edward looks over at me with a small, cheeky smile.

"Yeah, it's really great that Em finally found someone to put up with his antics," Edward offers.

Esme just smiles, pushing off the counter and grabbing her wine glass. "I'm gonna go play Scrabble. Grab dessert from the fridge, will you, Edward?"

When we're alone, he reaches out and hooks his finger around the belt loop on my jeans, pulling me against him. It's such a simple, sexy move that makes my insides flutter. I wrap my arms around his neck, and we kiss. It's deep, sexy, and accidentally turns into a full-blown make-out.

"Dessert," I whisper, pulling back.

He dips his head to kiss me again. It's quick, chaste. "You're my dessert." Another kiss.

"I'm not very sweet," I counter.

"So? That's my favorite part about you."

Even if what he just said is cheesy, I smile up at him, so charmed and intoxicated by the fact he has a soft side for me.

"Not that I don't like standing in your parents' kitchen making out, but what if someone comes looking for us?"

His hands slide over my ass before letting go. "Fine."

I hop up on the island while he gathers what he needs, taking a sip of my wine.

"So you told my mom we're together?" he casually asks.

"Not exactly. I accidentally mentioned being in LA. She's a smart woman, that one."

He smiles down at the silverware drawer, gathering six forks. "I see."

I watch him move around the kitchen, staring at his broad shoulders when he reaches up to grab plates from the cabinet. And then my gaze trails down, landing on his ass. Despite not really having much there, the one he has is still very nice, especially the way it looks in those jeans.

His smile is smug when he catches me staring. I'm not the least bit embarrassed that I look like the heart-eyes emoji right now. I keep my lustful gaze on him even as he walks to the fridge to grab the chocolate cream pie.

"Hey, Bella?"

"Yeah."

He sets the pie on the counter then nudges my knees open, standing between my legs. "When are we gonna make this thing official?"

My heart skips. "Official," I repeat, trying not to smile.

He swallows, gaze intent on my face. "Yeah. I just want to make sure you're mine."

"Of course I'm yours." I breath out a soft laugh as I stare down, pulling my eyes from his. "But you're moving."

"So?"

"Long-distance sounds appealing to you?"

When I look back up at him, his face is unreadable. "It sounds better than the alternative—not being with you." My heart does a little flip-flop again as his palms caress the sides of my thighs. "Look. I'll go to LA for one year. In the scheme of things, of life," he gives me a pointed look, repeating my words, "a year is a blip."

I stare at him affectionately. "Yeah, I guess."

"If my being gone doesn't work out, and we're both miserable after a year, I'll move back," he says adamantly.

"But this is your _dream_ job. It's important to you."

"And you're—"

"Don't you dare say dream girl, or I'll slap you."

He smiles, eyes crinkling. "I was gonna say you're important to me, too."

I lean in to kiss him, wrapping my legs around his hips and pulling him closer. "I shouldn't be more important than your job, though."

"Why not? Besides, it's not like I'd quit. After a year, I could probably ask for a transfer."

What he's saying dawns on me, and I shake my head in disbelief.

"_Edward Cullen,_" I say, drawing out his name. "Are you telling me your company has a freaking office in Seattle?"

He hesitates. "Yeah. They're all over the US."

I know there's nothing he can do about it now, but I still have to give him shit. "Why didn't you apply to the location here, dummy?"

"Because they didn't have my position available. And back when I applied for the job, I thought I might like a change. Before we were doing this." He leans his forehead against mine. "Before the thought of leaving you bummed me out."

"The thought of you leaving bums me out, too," I mumble, frowning. "Like… a lot."

"Then what's the problem?" He pulls back, forehead creasing a bit. "Don't you want to be my girlfriend?"

"I've just never really done the whole boyfriend thing before," I tell him honestly. I think back on my dating history, and yep, that's true. Renee's past with men kind of turned me off to intimacy, and my relationship with her kind of left me with a plethora of trust issues.

"You want to be with me, right?"

"Yes." I grab the back of his neck, playing with his hair. "This would be so different if you were staying in Seattle."

"Would it be different, or would you find an excuse? Because before you didn't want anything to happen because we're roommates. Now I'm moving away, and you're still hesitant." He smiles sadly. "I'm not really following, Bell."

I sigh, knowing I sound completely insane and inconsistent. "I'm just scared, okay?"

"Of what?"

I list off: "Being hurt. The distance being be too difficult. Getting my hopes up only to have them crushed. You finding someone else in LA who's better suited for you. Or just—"

"That's not gonna happen," he interrupts. "None of that will happen."

"How do you know?"

"Because it's us," he says seriously.

"Listen. It's great that you've had a healthy relationship to witness all these years, but trust me. If the roles were reversed, you'd be jaded too."

"I understand, but—"

"Do you?" I ask, because how could he? His parents have been consistent. They've been stable and he was able to grow up feeling safe and have all of his decisions backed up by love, turning him into this wonderful, well-rounded person. And here I am, second-guessing everything because I didn't have that support system. I had to wing it. And that didn't always work for me.

"I care about you so fucking much. Is that not enough?"

My lips part before pressing into a small smile. "I care about you, too."

His eyes narrow, but it's more playful than angry. "Are you really gonna do this to me?"

"What?"

"Make me beg," he says, lightly kissing me.

I release a soft laugh against his lips. "That's not what I'm trying to do."

With a sigh, he searches my face. "Bella."

"Yes?"

"Stop overthinking this and be with me. I'm all in, and I want you to be, too."

Dropping my head against his shoulder, I press a kiss to his neck. I can only fight him for so long, and really, I don't want to fight him on this. I want to be with him, of course I fucking do. I want him to be with him despite my fears and insecurities. But ultimately I know they'll always be there, lurking—waiting for the worst time to present themselves.

"You really wanna be with this Hot Mess Express?" I ask, face hidden within the nook of his shoulder.

"Well, when you put it that way…" he teases, voice low. "You're not gonna scare me away."

"If this goes sideways, I'm totally blaming you."

"It won't."

Sitting straight so we're face-to-face, my lips curl into a smile, giving him the okay.

"So?" he prompts, searching my face.

"Okay."

His face breaks out into the sweetest of smiles. "Yeah?"

My face mirrors his. "Yeah. Let's do it."

"Fucking finally!" Emmett roars, jumping out from around the corner. "It's about time, yah idiots."

I roll my eyes, laughing. But for once in his life, Em isn't entirely wrong.

"How long have you been standing there?" Edward asks.

"For like, the whole fucking thing," he blurts, grabbing the pie. "It was painful to watch, man."

"_You're _painful to watch," I counter, and Edward laughs.

Emmett sticks his middle finger in the pie then flips us off before walking out.

"He's disgusting," I mutter, fighting a smile.

"I know," Edward agrees.

"Think we can convince him to move in with Rose, so we can have the place to ourselves for the next few months?" I ask, hopeful.

"Doubtful. It's worth a shot, though. What about Alice?"

"Sometimes I'm convinced she's a ghost."

"So you believe in ghosts, but relationships scare you?"

"What can I say? I'm an enigma."

Edward leans in, pressing a sweet kiss to my mouth. "You're something else, that's for sure."

* * *

**Hi, hello, thank you for reading. I'll update again next Friday**—**hope everyone has a wonderful holiday!**

**Thank you to Hadley for chatting with me laaaate night about this story. Her support is truly the best gift.**


	15. Chapter 15

Edward and I have been official for just over a month, and now I can't really imagine him as just a friend ever again. The best part is that we're still us. He's the exact same Edward I knew and loved before I knew I loved him romantically. Nothing between us has really changed except for the fact that we kiss whenever we want, have sex on the reg, and share my bed every night.

Of course, we're still faced with the daunting fact that he's leaving in a few months. But I decide not to dwell on it and enjoy my time with him while he's still here. We make plans for the next year, talking frequently about both of us making a point to fly out every now and then. I don't expect it to be easy, and I'm still slightly worried, but I keep those thoughts to myself, hoping Edward's assurance is enough for the both of us.

XXX

I'm in the kitchen making dinner when Alice walks in. I haven't seen her for a while, but I figured she wasn't dead since the entirety of our rent got paid last week.

I pause the podcast I'm listening to, glancing her way. "Hi," I greet, shaking some red pepper flakes into my bubbling tomato sauce.

She points to the container of grated parmesan cheese next to the stove. "May I?"

"Um. Sure?"

She grabs some with her bare hands then sprinkles a trail from the kitchen to the dining area before disappearing into the living room. I gotta give the girl credit—she definitely keeps things interesting and somehow ups the shock factor with each interaction.

I turn off the burner so the sauce can cool, and I'm about to drain the noodles when I feel something hairy brush against my foot. I jump out of my bones before I even look down, my scream instant when I see a large rat. I scramble away, hopping on the counter. It's just sitting there, unconcerned, sticking its ugly face into a pile of parmesan.

Alice rushes back into the kitchen. "There you are." She reaches down and picks the rat up, holding it against her chest. "What did I tell you about escaping, Thaddeus?"

"Why?" I ask, unable to properly get a full sentence out.

She looks at me as if I'm the crazy person. "Why not? Rats make great company." With that, she shuffles back downstairs.

Seconds later, Edward walks into the kitchen and finds me perched on the counter.

"Do I even wanna know?" he asks, smirking as he holds out a hand to help me down.

"I just met Alice's pet rat," I tell him, shuddering. "Although I'm not sure it's actually her pet because she referred to him as Thaddeus… the name of her so-called boyfriend."

Edward begins shaking with laughter, which is honestly the most appropriate way to react. I'm still slightly traumatized though.

"Yeah, laugh it up," I say flatly. "You're the one who gets to move out, and I'll be stuck here. You should be worried, not amused."

"Man, I'm gonna miss this place."

I quirk an eyebrow, pulling out the colander. "Seriously?"

"Yeah." He spoons some sauce into his mouth, humming in approval. "Never a dull moment around here."

I lean against the counter, crossing my arms. "You do have sort of an inclination toward weird things. Like me, for example. And the fact that you like when I lick—"

"Save it for the bedroom." The tops of his cheeks and ears turn pink, and I laugh, moving closer and wrapping my arms around his waist. "But you're right about the first part. I find you pretty damn endearing, Swan."

I look up at him, heart overwhelmed by the way he's staring back at me, and kiss his chin. "I love you, too."

His eyes practically dance when he grins. "_Too_ implies I said it first, which I did not."

Well, crap.

I've spent the last couple of weeks casually thinking about how easy it was to fall for him, tossing around the word "love" in my head. It was bound to slip out sooner or later. I didn't necessarily mean for it to happen right now though.

"What I meant was—"

"You can't take back an admission of love," he teases. "That's wrong on so many levels."

"But—" He spoons some sauce into my mouth to shut me up.

"I knew it." He kisses the tip of my nose, staring down at me. His teasing is gone and his features soften, smile so warm. "You love me."

"That's not how this was supposed to happen," I protest, dropping my arms from his body. "I have tomato sauce on my face and grated parmesan stuck to my feet and—"

"I don't care," he laughs quietly, eyes still trained on my face. "I don't care about any of that because… I love you too."

Just like that, my heart soars. "You do?"

"I do."

"You could've started with that instead of making me get all crazy-eyed." I push against his torso, but there's zero conviction behind it because he just admitted to loving me, and that makes up for the fact that he purposely riled me up.

The tiniest glint of humor dances in his eyes when he grabs my waist and pulls me against him. "But I love when you get all crazy-eyed."

"You do?" I ask again.

"Uh huh." He dips his head, kissing me deeply. "I wouldn't change a thing about you."

It's undeniably sexy hearing him speak so openly about his feelings. He makes me feel safe and secure, not just in this relationship, but in who I am. He loves me, wouldn't change me, and embraces my brand of crazy. I don't know how he did it but for once, my heart feels a little more open. I feel like the luckiest emotionally-stunted girl in the world.

XXX

Summer slowly fades into fall. It's annoying that with the next season change, Edward will be gone. As much as I don't want to think about it, there's always a little reminder with each day that passes. Like when he spends his evenings online searching for an apartment in LA, asking my opinion on location and size. Or when he reminds me to put the electric in my name so it's all squared away when he leaves. Or like tonight, when he begins working on the Craigslist ad to sublet his room for the year.

We're in my room, like always, sprawled out across the bed.

"You could probably rent out the room before January," I tell him, scrolling through Instagram. "You never sleep in there anymore. It's really just a glorified closet."

"We don't sleep in my room because I like your bed more than mine."

"You shouldn't. Yours is comfier," I protest.

"But your bed smells like you. Therefore, I like it better."

He's sitting up against the headboard, laptop on his stomach, so I straddle him. Leaning over close to his ear I whisper, "You're too charming for your own good."

"It's easy with you." He lifts his chin a bit, kissing me. "I was thinking…"

"What?"

"What if when I'm in Seattle again, I don't move back into this house."

I frown. "Where would you go?"

Moving the laptop off his stomach, he grabs my waist, thumbs brushing over my hips. "What if we got a place? Just the two of us?"

"Oh."

"Don't freak out," he says preemptively, gauging my reaction.

"I'm not freaking out," I promise, leaning forward so our chests meet. "I think we should do it."

His face lights up so bright and he places a sweet kiss on my mouth. "That was easy," he says after a moment, eyes narrowed. "A little too easy."

"Overthinking doesn't look good on you," I laugh, sitting back up but staying on him. "Let me be the one to do that, 'kay?"

"I'm not trying to overthink, but I thought you were gonna turn down the idea. I had a whole speech planned."

"Oh? Do tell."

"Nah," he says, twinkle in his eyes. "I think I'll save it if I need to convince you of something in the future."

"Well no convincing needed for this. If we hadn't already lived together for the last however many years, it would seem like a huge step. But… this makes sense. And really by then, we'll have outgrown this place and seriously be over living with Emmett."

"I've already outgrown this place," he tells me. "In fact, I could've lived on my own like, two years ago."

"Why didn't you move out then?"

All he does is shrug, but the vulnerability of his face gives him away. The way his gaze bounces around, not holding mine. The small way his mouth curls into a self-deprecating smile, ears growing pinker by the second.

He stayed because of me.

"I love you, you know that?" My voice is barely a whisper.

His vulnerability shifts to confidence. "I love you, too."

Leaning forward again, I kiss him softly, sweetly. The kiss deepens, and I begin to feel him lengthen against me, but he pulls back.

"I gotta finish this," he says, patting my thighs. "I'm almost done. And then we can… yeah."

"Okay, okay," I groan, moving next to him.

He adjusts himself then grabs the laptop, eyes bouncing back to the screen. "Would you be okay with the new roommate having a pet?"

"No more pets. One rat is plenty, and I clean up after Em enough." He's actually gotten better now that he has Rose. "A cat would be fine, maybe. But only if it's not an asshole."

"Got it," he muses, eyes on the screen as he types 'no asshole cats.'

"Don't actually put that," I laugh, swatting his hands away from the keys. "Besides, no one is aware enough to know if their pet is an asshole. It's like having a kid. Everyone thinks their child is an angel when in reality they're demon spawn."

"Isn't that a bit harsh?"

"Nah. I can say that though 'cause I was pretty demonic. Poor Charlie."

"I bet you were adorable." He grins. "Luckily I think I have enough normalcy to level out your crazy genes, so our kids wouldn't be evil." He says it nonchalantly, like he didn't just offer up some big fucking news about us. He referenced our nonexistent kid. Which means he wants to have a baby… with me. And potentially get married, if he's traditional like I think he is.

A million thoughts start to run through my head. Because _I'm_ not traditional. I don't need the wedding or the marriage license or anything like that because being legally bound still doesn't mean the other person will stay forever. It doesn't mean anything, actually. I bite the inside of my cheek, trying to turn my negative thoughts around.

There is something intriguing about doing all of that with Edward. To go against what I thought I never wanted and take a fucking chance. To believe in something despite being fueled by fear. And I know he hasn't asked me, and marriage has never come up. But I'm thinking about it now. After the initial shock has worn off, it's not as scary as I thought it'd be.

I'm still staring at him, half expecting him to realize what he just said and take it back. But he doesn't. When I'm quiet long enough and he feels my gaze, his eyes settle on my face.

"What's up?"

"You can't just throw out bombs like that, man."

He's completely unaffected by what he just said. "Bombs like what? That you're crazy?"

I shake my head, voice quieter than intended. "No, the other part."

"That you were a cute kid?" he asks, but I see his small smirk there, and he knows what I'm talking about. He's just gonna make me be the one to say it.

"You referenced our nonexistent kids."

"Oh. I guess I did. Too soon?" He's casual about it, and I merely shrug. "I do want kids. Someday."

It's not something I'd thought about before now but, "Yeah, me too."

I leave out the part where I'd do it just for him. I'd have his babies, and I'd be his fucking wife. I'd do all that domestic shit because despite me being completely guarded and scared out of my mind, he moseyed his way into my heart. And now that he's here and sparking new ideas and feelings for me, I can't imagine being without him. So, yeah. I do want kids, but only with him. And if he asks me again, I'll tell him just that.

* * *

**Oh my fluff. Hope y'all enjoyed this chapter as much I enjoyed writing it.**

**A million thanks to the sweet miss Hadley for her help!**


	16. Chapter 16

Since our last interaction in Laguna wasn't completely terrible, I decide to try to be a little more consistent with Renee. I know that doesn't mean she'll return the gesture and suddenly be present in my life, but I think I'm okay with that. As long as I know that I'm making an effort, I don't necessarily need our relationship to be perfect.

Her birthday is coming up in a week, so I give her a call just to touch base. She doesn't answer, so I leave a voicemail letting her know I just wanted to say hey. Since things have progressed with Edward, and I'm finally all in, part of me is tempted to let her know about all of that as well. I don't know if she'll even care or if it matters to her. But when she asked what was holding me back with him, and I decidedly avoided the topic, I just thought she might like to know that I'm working on all of that. Like she is, with Raoul.

Three weeks pass until I finally hear from her. I don't take offense to her delay in returning my call, because that's pretty decent for us communication-wise.

"Hey," I greet, answering the call. I'm sitting outside on my lunch break, a rare sunny day in October. "Happy belated birthday."

"Don't remind me," she says, sounding a little irritated. "I stopped keeping track of my age years ago."

"Got it," I chuckle, keeping the mood light. "What have you been up to?"

"Not a lot. Things have been pretty uneventful." She pauses, like she's covering the phone to talk to someone else. I wait a second, until she says, "I got your message. Did you need something?"

"Yeah, I mean, no. I just wanted to say hi," I reply carefully. "What are you doing for Thanksgiving?"

"Nothing," she says, distracted. "Why?"

"Just wondering."

"I don't really care for holidays drenched with cultural appropriation," she all but snips.

She's so different compared to our last interaction. But maybe I shouldn't be surprised because this is who Renee actually is—passive-aggression laced with apathy. Not the glowing and open communicator she pretended to be back when we visited.

I hear some commotion in the background. "Where are you?"

"I'm at the airport."

"Oh. Are you and Raoul going somewhere?"

"No."

"Where are you going?" I ask, dropping my friendly tone. If she wants to be no nonsense, I can do that.

"Florida."

"Why?"

"What is this," she laughs humorlessly, "an interrogation?"

I forgot that talking to her is like pulling teeth sometimes. Her irritation triggers something inside, and I feel like I'm twelve years old again, trying to get my mom to connect with me when all she wants to do is anything but.

"Not an interrogation," I finally say, frowning to myself. "I'm just curious."

"If you must know, I have some friends who are gonna put me up for a little bit. I think I need a change of scenery. Can't stick around in one place for too long, or I'll become stagnant."

"Florida's… nice," I mumble. "Laguna's nice too."

"Laguna is toxic."

"What happened? Where's Raoul?"

"He's right where I left him."

"So it's over?" I ask, and she mumbles confirmation. "He didn't seem so bad." Yes, he's a kook, but out of all the men she's been with, save Charlie, he was decent.

"Yeah, he was fine until he wasn't," she replies vaguely.

"You weren't with him for very long."

She snorts. "Luckily."

"Weren't you engaged?" I ask, hoping she won't shut down and end the conversation. "I saw the ring on your finger. That alone was a big deal, right? You haven't been that serious with someone since… since Dad."

"Not that I have to explain myself to you, Bella, but material things don't really mean much. A ring on my finger doesn't mean that person owns me. Sure, we were engaged, but I had enough foresight to know it wasn't going to last."

"Okay," I say, because there isn't anything else to really add. I don't necessarily care either way if she and Raoul are done. But a tiny part of me thought she was changing. To be quite honest, it kind of had a helping hand in allowing me to put a little trust in my own relationship with Edward. Seeing how she appeared okay and was putting herself out there to be with someone, despite her past, was slightly encouraging.

"I'm about to board," she replies and clears her throat. "I'll catch up with you later, okay?"

"Alright, sure," I mumble.

Before I can say another word, she hangs up, and I'm left with the phone to my ear, wondering why I feel surprised by her behavior. Wondering why, after all this time, I've failed to realize that her one consistency is being inconsistent.

XXX

After my call with Renee, works drags.

It's Halloween so everyone's focus is a little off. They're all in high spirits after our midday potluck, and productivity dwindles afterward. My lack of focus has less to do with the holiday and more to do with my flake of a mother. Part of me is still trying to dissect everything, but the other part is just embarrassed—for her, for me. Ultimately I know none of her actions reflect onto me, but I worry that her flakiness is my future. How could I not?

When it's time to leave work, I linger. I'm usually the first out, but tonight I'm the last. I don't know why, but heading home and having to socialize right away just doesn't sound appealing. So I buy myself a little time, trying to shake my weird mood.

My phone chirps, and I find a message from Edward, asking when I'm gonna be home. When I fully open our text thread I realize I missed two others from him earlier in the day. I reply, letting him know I'll just meet everyone at the bar. Em wanted to celebrate Halloween, but since it's a weeknight and none of us wanted to dress up, we decided Bingo at the Chinese restaurant would suffice.

I'm gathering my stuff and shoving my laptop into its bag when Ben walks out, looking surprised to still see me here.

"You didn't hear me singing along to Queen, did you?" he asks, looking busted.

"Nope."

"Thank God." He looks relieved then, "I probably shouldn't have said anything, and you wouldn't have had a clue, huh?"

"Probably," I reply, offering an amused smile, even if it's slightly forced.

He switches off the light in his office, lingering in his doorway before walking closer to my desk. "Why're you here so late, anyway?"

I stand, slipping my phone into my bag. "Just wanted to finish up some stuff," I say vaguely, not about to divulge details about Renee.

"Well you're officially off the clock," he says, small smile on his lips as he runs a hand through his sandy hair.

"Don't you worry, I'm leaving," I reply. "But my bus will be here in ten, so I can lock up if you gotta jet."

He drums his fingers on my desk. "Where ya headed? I can give you a ride."

"You don't have to do that."

With an easy shrug he says, "I don't mind. Besides, you can scope out the inside of my car and tell all the other employees how much of a slob I am."

I laugh, surprised by his light demeanor. "Deal."

Grabbing my stuff, I stand idly while he locks up then follow him outside to his Audi. He tells me to type where I'm going into the GPS, so I do. After a moment of scanning over the directions, he laughs lightly.

"Was your day really that bad?" he asks, throwing the car into drive.

I shift in the seat. "What do you mean?"

He points to the GPS. "You're heading to the bar straight after work. Not a good sign, Bella. Should I be worried about you? Check you in to the nearest rehab center?" I realize he's fighting a smile, and for the second time, I'm caught off guard by his joking. In the office he's nice, sure, but he doesn't typically banter or hold playful conversations with anyone. Not that I've noticed anyway.

"Although we do have great insurance, I think I'll pass on the rehab," I say lightly. "I'm just meeting some friends for bingo. My roommate, Em, wanted to do something for Halloween, so we figured why not."

"Bingo at a Chinese restaurant?"

"That's not all," I counter, talking it up. "They have great karaoke, Jell-O shots, and trivia on Monday nights."

"You don't strike me as the Jell-O shot type." He takes his eyes off the road for a brief second, glancing over at me. "So no costume tonight?"

"Not this year. I feel like I might be getting a little old for that, anyway."

He breathes out a laugh. "Come on, you're barely twenty-four."

"Try twenty-seven. Don't you like, have a file on me?"

"Jane handles all the HR stuff. And I don't typically snoop on my employees." Again with the teasing tone, and I'm left wondering how old he is. He's gotta be at least thirty, but it's hard to tell. His cheeks are still boyish but there are lines around his eyes that suggest otherwise.

Soon enough, we're pulling into the parking lot of the restaurant. Neon lights flash above us—half bright, half burned out. I thank him for the ride and say that I'll see him tomorrow. He promises it wasn't a problem and tells me to have a good night.

Once I'm inside, I don't need to glance around to know where my crew's sitting because I instantly spot Edward in the corner booth, hair a complete mess and eyes on me the moment I walked in. I slide across the bench seat and he gives me a sweet smile and a kiss, but doesn't question why I'm late.

"Why'd you bring your laptop?" he asks instead, watching as I place the bag on the floor between our feet.

"I didn't go home yet; I came straight here from work. Ben dropped me off actually."

Edward nods, but his eyes narrow just slightly. "Does he live over here?"

"No. I think he lives down south."

"Sounds like he went a little out of his way. The opposite direction, actually."

"I think he was just being nice."

"Nice, huh?"

His brows are the slightest bit furrowed, and though his tone is light, what he's suggesting feels a little heavy.

If I didn't know any better, I'd say Edward Cullen is jealous.

I've seen many sides of him over the years—playful, annoyed, flirty, somber, hungover, excited, and more recently, aroused. But this is the first time I've noticed anything akin to possessive.

"Don't tell me you're jealous," I murmur, calling him out.

"I'm—" He opens his mouth, and it's like he hadn't recognized the feeling until I pointed it out. "Call it what you want, but you're my girlfriend, and I don't like the idea of you riding in cars with other men."

"He's not 'other men,' he's my boss." I kiss him, letting my lips linger a second longer. "To be honest, it's kind of cute how protective you're getting, but I promise it's not necessary. Okay?"

He kisses me back and drops it.

"You wanna play?" Edward asks, sliding his board toward me.

"Not really." I sip the beer he also slid my way. "I'm kinda beat. Today was weird."

Em and Rose join the conversation, and Edward gives me a small, knowing look. One that I know means he'll ask about my day later, when we're alone.

The night dwindles, and I listen to the three of them shoot the shit without really joining in. I laugh when I need to and slowly drink my beer until it's no longer cold, and I can't really hide the fact that I just don't really want to be here right now.

When Emmett goes to order more beer and Rose slips into the bathroom, I turn to Edward.

"I think I'm gonna go home."

"All right." He searches my face, keeping his unreadable. "You okay?"

"I'm okay. Just tired." It's not an outright lie—I am exhausted. Work has been a little crazy since Ben had me take over the company's social media accounts. On top of that, I'm training the new receptionist. So my days have been a little longer than normal, but the exhaustion is such a welcome feeling. There was zero thought behind my job at the museum, so I'm glad to be distracted by work for once.

"Okay," he says, throwing down some cash. "Let's go."

"You don't have to." I kiss him, making sure it's long and deep. I know I'm acting a little off, and my words are never really that convincing. The least I can do is try to reassure him with my actions. "Really. You can stay if you want. Bingo it up, baby."

He looks amused. "_Baby_?"

"It's not a pet name. I was just… being weird," I backtrack. "Stay. Have fun."

"What kind of boyfriend would I be if I let you walk home alone? Besides, I missed you today. I wanna hang, even if we're doing nothing." He pauses, amused smirk still on his lips. "If you're cool with that… baby."

My eyes roll, but I smile. I usually find this term of endearment cheap, but I don't hate the way it sounds rolling off his tongue. We slide out of the booth and detour across the bar to pass by Em, letting him know we're heading out. He makes a joke about leaving to have sex, and I ignore him, as does Edward.

Once we're outside, I feel slightly better. The night is cool but not cold, and it's hard to believe the holidays are just around the corner. I think about where Renee might be by then—somewhere in Florida, couch-surfing with whomever. And Raoul, the poor schmuck. Who knows what emotional state he's in, but if Renee had anything to do with it, I'm sure her goodbye was one for the books. My mind wanders to the day she left Charlie—left me—and I can't help but wonder if she was as nonchalant then as she was today about leaving Raoul.

I'm stuck in my thoughts, aimlessly walking home, and don't realize Edward's trying to grab my attention until his arm brushes against mine.

"Hey."

"Hey," I echo, finding his eyes. "Sorry."

"You seem distracted." He says it evenly, not accusing or complaining—just perceptive. "What's on your mind?"

"Just stuff."

We cross the road, walking in silence for a few moments.

"Talk to me," he encourages. "Did something happen?"

His face is full of worry, concern. I bite the inside of my cheek, unsure of whether or not I want to share with him. Thoughts of "I told you so" pop into my head when my mind wanders back to LA and Edward's initial concern with us visiting Renee in the first place. Sneaking a glance at his face again, I decide to tell him. He's a pretty confident guy, but I am acting a little distant, and I don't want him to think it's something he did.

"I talked to my mom earlier. She's just all over the place. Always. I should've known Laguna was a fucking fluke."

Edward's silent, and when I don't keep the conversation going, he speaks. "What did she do?"

"She left Raoul and is suddenly moving to Florida. Talk about fucking random. And her actions weren't directly related to me, but hearing about her leaving another person just… I don't know. It triggers something in me. Because I've been there—I know what it's like. And it fucking sucks."

We hear a car up ahead and move closer to the side of the road, the headlights nearly blinding us. It passes, and we stay silent for the next couple of minutes, until we're back home. I grab a glass of water, drinking it completely before filling another glass. Edward heads into the living room then pulls me on the couch when I follow him.

"I don't want to say the wrong thing," he prompts. "But why'd you think this time would be different with her?"

I know he's trying to be sensitive and navigate his way through this carefully, but his words kind of sting. Instead of growing defensive, I really try to think about what he's asked.

"Because it felt different?" I ask rather than state. "Sure, her and Raoul were a little kooky but we had real conversations. She asked about my life, about you. She wasn't passed out drunk on the couch like she has been in the past. She didn't leave only to return after a couple days, not explaining where she was," I recall. "This time I spent like, seven hours with her, and she was present. I don't think that's ever happened."

"I hear you. But I don't think her showing up for you _once_ is enough to think she's changed, Bell. I just… don't."

I sigh, knowing he's probably right. "I wish it weren't wired somewhere deep inside of me to want her around. It's… stupid.

"It's not stupid. Not at all," he says gently. "I wish you wouldn't let her jerk your emotions around. It's not good for you."

I find his eyes, so full of concern and honesty and love. "Maybe it felt different with her because you were there for me."

He likes this answer, kissing my temple, keeping his lips on my head when he says, "Maybe."

Scooting closer, I curl my body next to his and drape an arm over his torso. "I don't want to think about Renee anymore."

With his arm wrapped around my shoulder he says, "Okay."

I lift my head a little and press a soft kiss to the side of his neck. "You missed me today, huh?"

He breathes out a tiny laugh. "Always. I texted a couple times, but you didn't reply. Work was busy for you?"

"Kinda. Sorry." I bring a hand up to his face, fingers tracing over his sharp jaw, noting the stubble that's there. "Tomorrow's November."

"I know."

"Then December."

He smirks. "That's usually how it works."

"And then you're gone." And suddenly so is his smirk. "Our time kinda feels like it's running out, huh?" My voice is just above a whisper, and I watch his throat bob with a swallow.

"Don't think like that."

"How could I not?"

"Just because we won't be in the same city doesn't mean we're over," he says assuredly. "I'm far from being done with you, Bell. In fact, I think you might be stuck with me forever."

My stomach flutters from his sincerity. "Aren't you worried though?"

"No, because I love you."

"I love you, too. But that doesn't solve everything."

"We'll FaceTime every day, and I already have a flight booked to come back in March for my dad's birthday. And you'll come to me when you can," he reminds me. "It's going to be okay. Will you just trust me on this?"

"I'm trying."

"Try harder." He offers a small but encouraging smile before turning serious. "I'm not gonna let you down, okay? I'm just not."

Hearing how candid he's being makes my chest so full, my heart so warm. I move from my spot next to him, and straddle his lap. It's indecent the way he makes me feel, with his words, his actions. His hands run up and down my back, roaming over my hips. I move in small, deliberate circles on his lap, creating a little friction, feeling him grow and lengthen. Warmth spreads throughout my body, and his eyes are a shade darker, watching me grind on him.

Pressed against his chest, I kiss him, still moving.

"What are you trying to do?" he asks, arousal clear on his face, mouth parted.

"Make you fuck me on the couch," I murmur against his lips.

I feel him smile. "What if Em and Rose come home?"

"They won't."

"Alice?"

"Doubtful."

He's fully hard now, pressing against me in the most delicious way. My body ignites, and yes, we could walk the short distance to one of our rooms. But I don't want to break this feeling, this connection to him.

We keep our shirts on, and I lose my jeans. He lifts his ass off the couch and partially pulls his down, removing himself through the pouch in his briefs.

"Condom?" he breathes, but he's right there, tip already pressed against me. If I didn't have enough self-control to take this into the bedroom, there's no way in hell I'll be able to move now with how good he feels against me.

"No condom."

And then I grip him, carefully sinking down and losing my breath. He groans, and my eyes clench shut. It's not the first time we've had sex without protection, and I crave the feeling of having nothing between us.

We start slow, lazily moving against one another. It's sweet and tender, and the way his gaze stays trained on my face feels so intimate. But, like always, it erupts into something more than lovemaking. He pounds instead of pumps, and I lose myself completely. Lifting my shirt a bit, he sucks my breast into his mouth. When he lightly bites down, I tighten around him, eliciting a moan from his throat that vibrates against my skin.

We move against each other, completely unaffected by the fact that anyone could walk in. But maybe that's half the thrill of it. His pace quickens, and he brings a hand down between us, rubbing me.

He grits his teeth, eyebrows knitting together. "I'm close. Should I pull out?"

"No, no," I breathe, body on fire. Still bucking against me, he searches my face. "On the pill," I remind him, panting. "Come inside me."

His breath hitches, and I can see very clearly that my words turn him on.

"Fuck, Bella. Say it again."

I say it over and over, begging him to come. He grunts out loud, gripping my ass so hard and holding me against him as he pulses inside of me. He fills me completely, and seconds later my body loses control too. I tense and tremble, craving the wave that washes over all my senses.

Collapsed against his chest, I press an open-mouthed kiss to his neck.

"Wow," I murmur, catching my breath.

"I know." With his head tilted back against the couch, he says, "I'll never get enough of you. Ever."

His words send a thrill through me, and I kiss his Adam's apple.

"Thank you."

He lifts his head, eyes soft and expectant. "For what?"

"Being there for me tonight. Making me feel better."

"You don't have to thank me for that. Haven't you caught on by now that I'm not going anywhere?" he asks, kissing me softly.

"I think I'm starting to." I kiss him back, then glance down between us. "We should probably go clean up… and make sure none of this gets on the couch."

His laugh is breathy, albeit a tad embarrassed. "That sounds like a great idea."

* * *

**Hope everyone had a spectacular New Year! We stayed out way too late and I'm still feeling it today, lol. Luckily I had enough strength to post ;) **

**Hadley is the bomb dot com. I tinkered, so any mistakes are mine!**


	17. Chapter 17

It's mid-November by the time Kate and I plan to meet up.

I've run into her once at the store, but our conversation was short, kind of forced. We also saw each other a month ago during a mutual friend's birthday dinner at a cabaret show. There wasn't really a chance to talk, and after the show, I ended up leaving and skipped going out with everyone for drinks. Some texts have gone back and forth, about my new job and her new boyfriend, but other than those few instances, things have been pretty quiet between us.

When she texted me a few days ago, it was a picture of us outside our first real apartment. We look young, and we look ridiculous. It was only seven years ago, but I marvel at how both of our styles have really changed since then. Seeing the photo makes me a little nostalgic because it reminds me that we were once real friends. And even though things can sometimes weird or competitive or just downright toxic between us, there have been some good times mixed in there too. So when she asks to meet up for brunch, I accept.

The morning I'm meant to meet her, I'm not as nervous as I thought I'd be. It could be because I know she has a boyfriend. Maybe it's due to the fact that I feel secure with Edward. I know where we stand, which brings me a new level of confidence in all aspects of my life. Regardless of whatever it is, I'm not anxious, and if she asks if I'm with Edward, I'll tell her the truth. If she's truly my friend, she'll be happy that I'm happy.

"Emmett's got some guys thing tonight," Rose tells me when I'm on my way out the door. "You wanna try that new wine bar?"

"Sure. Can Edward come even if Em is out?"

"Of course. Does he like wine?"

"He likes me, and I like wine, therefore yes."

"Wonderful theory." Rose laughs. "Where you off to?" she asks, grabbing her mug and following me into the living room.

"I'm going to meet up with Kate."

She raises her eyebrows, blowing on her tea. "Why?"

I disappear into the hallway closet, finding a scarf I haven't worn in a while. "What do you mean?"

"Well, you're not very fond of her, and she doesn't sound like the greatest person, from what I've heard. Why bother?"

"I don't know," I say honestly. "It's been a while since we've actually met up. I really think it'll be… tolerable."

"Ah, classic frenemies," Rose snorts, and I roll my eyes, but I appreciate how easily she sums it all up.

Rushing into the restaurant, it takes me a minute to spot Kate. I start to think she left because I'm ten minutes late, but then I see her sitting in the back, staring down at her phone.

"Hey. Sorry I'm late!" I try to keep my tone light, but she doesn't look thrilled.

"It's fine."

"I like your bangs. They look good." It's not a lie. The way they frame her narrow face is flattering. I could never pull them off.

She fluffs them a bit, offering a reluctant smile. "Thanks. They're really in right now— maybe you should get bangs too."

I chuckle. "I don't have the right face shape for them."

"I'm sure they'd end up looking great on you," she muses in a tone I can't quite detect.

My thoughts trail back to freshman year of college, after she got a pixie cut that she hated. She kept insisting that I would look amazing with one, trying her hardest to convince me to chop off my hair, too. I didn't do it, thank God. I wonder how I completely missed her attempt at trying to find company for her misery back then.

"Glad you finally found a spare moment to meet," she says, pulling me out of my thoughts.

Her words sound passive-aggressive, but her small smile seems genuine, throwing me off. I'm about to apologize, then stop myself.

"Yeah, everything's been a little crazy," I say instead.

"With work or what?"

"Mostly. I've been working for that start-up, and they already have me switching gears and focusing on their social media. Apparently, the person before me really neglected that part of their brand, so their online presence needs a lot of work."

"I feel you with the craziness. I've had two promotions in the last three months. I'm like, can you stop? It's exhausting."

I appreciate friendly competition from time to time, but this feels deeper than that.

"Very cool," I say as I clear my throat and pick up a menu. "You're getting food, right?"

"Only if they have a vegan option."

"Since when are you vegan?"

"Since David. He practices veganism, so it's easier if we eat the same way."

"Okay." I scan over the food options, but I already know what I want. I always look over the menu online before I go to any restaurant. "Well I'm starving, so I definitely need to order something."

"Did I show you a picture of him?" she asks, sliding her phone across the table, showing me a photo of her and the vegan. He's attractive, a little too put together for my liking but perfect for her.

I tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear. "He's cute. Where'd y'all meet?"

"We work together."

"That's cool."

With her eyes on me, she seems to be searching my face for something. "So I've kinda heard things here and there, but you're with Edward, right?"

I hold her gaze. "Yeah. Things became official after we got back from LA." It doesn't feel necessary to let her know about our week and a half of sleeping together before then or how we were intimate on the actual trip.

"I figured." I don't know what to say to that, so I stay silent. "Why didn't you just tell me you liked him?" she asks bluntly. "I would've backed off."

_Because I'm a huge idiot who dabbles in the art of self-sabotaging and making things more complicated than they need to be._

"I don't know," I say instead. "It's not like I was secretly in love with him, but I think seeing your interest made me view him… differently. Admitting that to you would have been hard because I barely admitted it to myself."

"Typical Bella. Doesn't know who she wants until someone else is interested in them," she states coolly. "You realize this is sophomore year all over again."

I give her a look, one that's slightly condescending. I knew she was going to bring this up— in fact, I'd been kind of dreading the Edward conversation because of this. She had a thing for this guy Jake who happened to have a thing for me. I was completely unaware of his feelings until Kate barged into my room one night, completely pissed. Apparently he said my name during sex, and she lost it, accusing me of cheating with him. We didn't talk for weeks. She completely overreacted for someone who didn't stop sleeping with him for another month. Eventually her anger and my defensiveness dissipated, and we got over it. But I steered clear of any boyfriends or guys she was interested in after that.

I'm a little shocked she's comparing that situation to this.

"It's not the same, Kate."

"You stole Jake; you stole Edward. Seems the same to me."

"I didn't steal Jake. And Edward was never up for grabs," I say, heat pricking the back of my neck. "Not even for a second."

She looks away, keeping the cynical smile on her face. "Well, I feel stupid."

_Good_. "Don't," I say to keep the peace.

She rolls her eyes. "How could I not? I feel like I was played. And Bella wins again."

The waiter comes over, a brief but welcome interruption. He's way too upbeat for the tense conversation we're having. We both say we're not quite ready to order, needing a couple more minutes. When he cracks a joke, and neither of us respond, he mutters "tough crowd" before walking away.

I'm about to change the subject to something a little lighter when Kate sighs. "I'm just glad I didn't sleep with him."

"Who?"

"Edward."

She says this like it was an option. As if her merely being interested in him meant he automatically reciprocated the feeling.

"Yeah," I agree reluctantly. "That would've been… weird."

She's quiet, busying herself with unfolding her napkin. "Is it weird that something else happened between us?"

"What?" I blurt, shocked. "What do you mean?"

"I've been debating on whether or not to tell you this. I figured if you knew, you would've mentioned it by now." She pauses. "I didn't want to say anything until we were in person, but I just don't think I'd be a good friend if I kept it from you any longer."

My pulse spikes. "Kept what from me?"

"Edward and I kissed. It was before you went to LA, so don't worry. It's not like he cheated on you," she assures me, which has the exact opposite effect. "I would just feel weird if you had kissed David before I was with him."

I swallow thickly, mouth suddenly dry. Adrenaline kicks in, but I take a moment to really dissect what she's said. A kiss isn't awful—a kiss isn't sleeping together or being intimate in other ways. Still, I can't help that jealousy replaces my adrenaline. I want to ask her when and where and why. But for some reason, I think I'd rather not hear her recall the kiss. I want to hear it straight from Edward.

"It's weird," I tell her sternly. "It's very fucking weird."

Something flickers in her gaze, and it seems very close to delight. "So, he didn't end up telling you?"

I frown. "No."

"You're right. That _is_ weird," she agrees, but she's very clearly loving the drama she just created. "You look upset."

"I am."

"I'm just trying to be honest."

"Really?" I ask in irritation. "Why now? Why not right after it happened?"

"I don't know." She shrugs. "Edward came by my work and specifically asked me not to mention it to you. Basically begged, actually. I assumed it was because he wanted to tell you himself, but… guess not."

Another blow to the heart and I've heard enough.

I wish I could say it doesn't matter because these last few months with Edward have been fucking perfect. He's been there for me and not only told me he's all in but, more importantly, _shown_ me. He's allowed me to open up in ways I never thought I could and accepted me through all the doubt. But hearing this catches me completely off guard, and I feel blindsided.

A kiss is one thing. Omitting that information is another. But purposely seeking her out and asking her to keep it all from me is an entirely new level of deception.

With my heart racing, I stand from my seat and hastily try to wrap my scarf around my neck. It gets caught between my bag and the chair, and I mumble a string of curse words, causing some people near us to take notice of the situation. Tears burn my eyes, but thankfully, they don't fall. I'm rarely a crier, but this one fucking stings.

"What are you going?" Kate asks, blinking.

"Leaving."

"What—you're mad we kissed?"

"It's more than that, and you know it." I might be more upset that Edward purposely kept it from me, but I'm not about to tell her that.

"This is so immature. I didn't know you liked him."

"That's beside the point!" I stress. "I don't like the way you're bringing this up now, months later, or the fact that you seem so fucking pleased with yourself."

"So you would've preferred I say nothing?" I think about this, and though my initial reaction is _yes_, I'm not sure if that's true. "I just started thinking, after being with David, I would be so… _hurt_ if something happened behind my back. I'm only looking out for you."

"Doesn't feel like it," I mumble, grabbing my bag.

"If you're gonna be mad at someone be mad at him, not me," she says, taking no responsibility. Her mouth opens to speak again, but I don't bother to stick around for another word. Instead, I rush out of the restaurant completely confused and thoroughly humiliated.

* * *

**Sorry, y'all**—**I'm not thrilled about it either. (But thank you for reading!)**

**Hadley is a freaking gem.**


	18. Chapter 18

The bus ride home is awful.

I draft multiple texts to Edward, all accusing and angry. I don't send any of them though because I need to hear him out in person. I need to approach this calmly and get all of the details before I react. Part of me still hopes this is just Kate stirring up shit or twisting the truth like she's done in the past. But this time feels different, and I don't know why.

Maybe it's because I've been expecting things to go sideways with Edward, for the other shoe to drop. When things go right for me, that typically means something is about to go wrong. Maybe I've been waiting for him to fuck me over. I know it's not fair, to have these assumptions tied to him because of my upbringing, my past. But my association of love with conflict and disappointment is wired into my nervous system, and this is what I know. This is what I've grown accustomed to—the lies, the secrecy, the abandonment. And it fucking sucks.

In the scheme of things, a kiss isn't the worst thing that could happen. It's the potential lying that gets under my skin. It's the possible deceit of him deliberately seeking her out and asking her not to tell me that hurts the most.

And if they didn't kiss? Then my friendship with Kate, or whatever was left anyway, is over. Scratch that—whether they did or didn't— she's out of my life regardless. It's been a long time coming.

I'm so distracted with all the what-ifs, I miss my stop and have to get off at the next one. I appreciate the the ten minute walk back to the house, though. I have extra time to get my thoughts in order; extra time to breathe.

When I walk in, Edward's sitting on the couch with Emmett playing Xbox. I hate the way his face lights up when he sees me. For a moment, it lessens my anger.

His eyes bounce between me and the TV before he pauses the game.

"You're back early. How'd—"

"Did you kiss her?" I blurt, watching the color drain from his face.

"Uh, should I go?" Emmett asks awkwardly.

"Yes," Edward and I say simultaneously.

I wait until Em's gone to speak.

"Well?" I prompt, looking at Edward. Seconds pass, and he hasn't said anything yet. But he doesn't have to because his eyes, his mouth, his _face _says it all. "Are you fucking kidding me?" I ask, emotion rising in my voice.

He stands from the couch, carefully moving closer, but still keeping his distance.

"It's not what it sounds like, Bella. I promise."

I shake my head. "Tell me everything."

"Okay. Will you please sit down?"

"No."

He hesitates but stays standing as well. "It was a few months ago, when I was out for my classmate's birthday." I think back to that evening, remembering how he'd been out late, but he was texting me throughout the night. "I ran into her, but it was by coincidence. We weren't actually hanging out, regardless of whatever she said."

"Uh huh."

"We weren't," he counters. "I hung out with my friends the entire time, but then she found me at the end of the night. And she was wasted." My brain runs wild with different scenarios, but I force myself to stop and hear him out. "I told her she should probably get an Uber, but again, she wasn't that coherent and said she couldn't find her phone. So I used mine to order her a car."

Angry, jealous tears trickle down my cheeks. "Did you go home with her?"

"No," he says, and relief fills my chest. Until he adds, "I rode with her, though."

"Why do you even care about her?"

"I don't. I just didn't feel comfortable sending her home alone in a random Uber when she was that out of it."

"Who gives a shit?"

"I wouldn't feel comfortable if someone let _you_ ride alone in that state," he stresses.

My heart sinks at the thought of him being chivalrous to her. "Go on. Get to the part where you kiss her."

"I didn't kiss her. _She_ kissed me. It was like a split second, and I pulled away. She was kinda upset, but then she got out of the car and went inside her house. That was it."

This is what I needed—to hear him explain it all. And even if he's being honest, that she initiated everything, it doesn't hurt any less when I imagine her lips on his in the backseat. It doesn't mean he didn't put himself in a compromising position.

"Please say something," he murmurs, running a nervous hand through his hair.

"So you're telling me you're the only guy in the world who, while being drunk, can turn down a woman who's coming onto them?"

"Sure, I guess. I don't like her—I like you. I _love_ you."

"You love me so much that you begged her not to tell me about it?" I angrily wipe at my eyes and wish I weren't crying. "That's what she said, that you showed up at her work and you _begged_ her."

He hesitates, like he didn't realize I knew that part too. It makes the crack in my chest widen because it's clear he was going to keep that part to himself.

"Bullshit," he breathes out, nostrils flaring. "I didn't _beg_ her, and I don't even know where she works. But… I did ask her not to tell you," he admits, guilt plastered on his face.

I shake my head, so confused with the half-truths and half-lies. "Why would she say you showed up at her work?"

"I don't know."

"So when did you ask her to fucking lie to me?"

"She was near campus, I don't know why. We ran into each other and she seemed apologetic about... everything. So I asked her not to tell you because I knew how you'd react." He frowns, eyes casting downward. "I'm so sorry."

"I can't believe you," I whisper harshly, wiping my nose with my sleeve. "You should've told me."

"You're right. There were so many times I wanted to, but I just... I was scared of losing you. You have to understand that, at least."

"Understand?" I echo. "Zero part of me understands this."

He hesitates, like he's choosing his words carefully. "Things haven't been easy," he says softly. "I know how you get—"

"All the more reason to be honest with me."

"Baby, I know. But it meant _nothing_. Less than nothing."

"It means something to me!" I exclaim. "Don't you see that? It's a big deal to me. You lied! You're the one person who was supposed to be honest with me, and you lied."

He falls quiet, remorse clear in his eyes. "I fucked up—I'm sorry."

I swallow thickly then clench my eyes shut, taking a deep breath. It's like I can feel the walls that were once dissolved starting to build themselves up again. Like I need to protect myself from this feeling, from getting hurt.

"I don't think what's happening here is good for us—for me."

He searches my face. "What are you saying?"

"That I need some space, I think."

"Space from me," he states.

"Space from us."

His voice is low, desperate. "Please don't do this."

I sniffle, looking away from his face. "Why not? What's the point of us being together anyway? You're moving soon."

"I don't give a shit that I'm moving. I want to be with you."

"Why? Like you said, it hasn't been easy, and the move will only make this harder." I pause, and now that my tears have stopped, my sadness has been replaced with anger. "I honestly think it's better if we just end this now before shit gets more complicated. Before you have another opportunity to hurt me."

"Stop." He stands closer than before. Being near him both comforts and angers me. "Don't do this because you're upset with me."

I step back, staring up at him. His eyes are bloodshot, and his mouth is pulled into a frown. "How am I supposed to trust you in LA after this?"

"Bella, come on. You know _me_."

"I thought I did. But you lied."

"Are you not listening to me?" he asks rhetorically. "I only did that because I was scared you'd react this way."

"Why wouldn't you lie to me again, then?" I ask, chin trembling, wanting so badly to believe him.

"Because I won't. I'm giving you my word."

"It's not good enough. You'll be in LA, and I'll be here, wondering what you're not telling me."

"Then come with me," he pleads, reaching for my hand. "Move with me."

My heart stops and I stare at him. It's the first time he's mentioned that I should come with him, but it doesn't feel right. It feels forced, like he's trying to keep something together that's clearly falling apart.

"There's nothing for me in LA," I whisper.

"I'll be there," he says sadly. When I don't respond right away, he gives me a pained look. I have to glance away because seeing tears in his eyes feels like a punch to my gut. "Are you serious, Bella? You're really gonna break up with me over this?"

My eyes find his again, and we stare at one another as adrenaline and hurt courses through me. And I can almost see the exact moment in his eyes when it all clicks for him.

"You've been waiting for this, haven't you?" he asks, calling me out.

"What?"

"You've been waiting for something to happen, for me to fuck up, so you could find an out."

"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard." But I'm not even sure if it's untrue. In fact, he might be so spot-on that after he says it, emotion wells deep, and the tears fall faster than before. "I fucking love you. Why would I want that?"

He searches my face, trying to figure it out on his own. He must come up empty because all he says is, "I don't know."

My hand falls out of his, but I can't tell whether he let go or if I did.

"Don't try to make me feel guilty for having some self-respect," I mutter.

"Self-respect? That's not what this is," he blurts, somewhat angry. "This is self-sabotage. Don't fucking do it, Bella. Don't. Don't be like your mom."

"Fuck that," I whisper harshly, glaring his way. "I am not like her. If anything, _you_ are, with your fucking lies." I exhale sharply. "Actually, you're worse. At least I know I can't count on her… I expect her to let me down. You, on the other hand, fooled me. You really did."

"Bella." Edward grabs my shoulders, looking me square in the eyes, forcing me to stare back. My tears blur his face, but I can still see it's full of pain. "You gotta trust me, baby. I swear nothing like this will ever happen again."

"I know," I agree and tug out of his grip, feeling my walls grow higher. "I'll make sure of that."

He falls quiet, searching my eyes. "Why are you doing this?"

I jut my chin out a bit, shrugging. "Self-preservation, I guess."

With an angry exhale, he shakes his head—he doesn't believe me. "Okay. Well, have fun being alone with your self-preservation," he mumbles, hurt and defeat clear on his face. "I'll be here waiting for you when you realize how ridiculous this is."

His words make my heart swell with emotion, but anger flares in me again, overshadowing it. This entire thing isn't ridiculous. It's a big deal to be lied to. It's a big deal to feel like I was purposely left in the dark. Who knows how I would've reacted months ago if he had come clean. Maybe I would've brushed it off. Maybe I would've been pissed. But one thing is for sure—he took away that choice from me when he decided to lie.

* * *

**I'M SORRY OKAY.**

**(Hadley is da best.)**


	19. Chapter 19

Thanksgiving is pretty uneventful.

I spend the holiday with Charlie, despite Esme's invite to join the Cullens for dinner. I guess after Edward told her I wasn't going to be coming over, she emailed to make sure I knew I was welcome. I don't think he told her _everything_, but it must've been enough to get the point across: whatever was happening with us romantically was no longer a thing. I replied to her, politely declining with the excuse that my dad was expecting me.

I thought being in Forks would be a nice distraction. And it is, for the first hour. There's not much to do, and that's not to say Charlie isn't a great host. It's just… he'd rather watch football and drink beer which gives me way too much time alone to think. And I've done enough of that already.

I've spent weeks replaying my fight with Edward. I've had countless sleepless nights either beating myself up over how I handled everything or getting pissed at him all over again for the entire thing.

So maybe I was hasty in breaking up with him. I know this. But in reality… was it not going to happen sooner or later? Long distance is hard enough, but toss in my trust issues and his deliberate lie… there's zero way it would've lasted.

Regardless of all of that... I miss him. And even if I forgive him, it's still confusing.

After dinner, Charlie doesn't retire to his chair like I assumed he would. Instead, he suggests we play a game of Scrabble.

We're playing the way we always do, the way that makes Scrabble actually fun—using _only_ slang words. Charlie puts down his letters, spelling out the word 'lit,' and I burst into laughter. He raises his eyebrows as a challenge and swigs his Rainier.

"Maybe we should start using our words in a sentence. I have a feeling it would be incredibly hilarious to hear you say the word lit."

"Don't go trying to embarrass your old man."

"I'm not," I counter, smiling. "You do that all by yourself."

"Sure, sure." He chuckles. "So how long you here for?"

"Just 'til tomorrow. Em's girlfriend let me borrow her car, so I should get it back to her."

Charlie smirks behind his mustache. "Em's got a girl?"

"Yeah."

"What about Edward?"

I keep my eyes on my letters. "Not that I know of."

"Huh."

"He's moving in January, so I'm sure he'll have lots of bold, eccentric LA women to choose from."

Charlie smirks. "Not if you have anything to say about it, I bet."

"I don't. I don't have anything to say about it. In fact, I have so little to say about it, I don't even know why we're on this topic."

"You don't have a very good poker face, kid."

I ignore his knowing gaze and spell out the word "woke."

"I must get that from you," I say, grabbing the bag of letters.

"You certainly don't get it from your mother. She's a hard one to crack."

"Yeah. She's pretty good at being emotionless." Charlie stays quiet and sips his beer. "Why didn't you ever date anyone after she left?"

"I mean, I did. I have."

My eyes widen. "Not that I knew of."

"Well, I'm not gonna go flauntin' it around town. Not my style."

"Fair enough. I just thought… I don't know. Maybe Renee messed you up emotionally, and you decided to be alone forever." _Like me_.

"Ain't that a bit dramatic?"

_Again, like me. _

"I don't know," I say instead.

"That was in the past. If I were still holding onto what happened with Renee, it wouldn't be healthy."

I avoid his eyes. "Right."

"Do you still have… feelings over her leaving?" I can tell this topic isn't easy for him to navigate. And I don't even necessarily want to get into all of it, but I appreciate him trying.

"I mean, I don't cry every night or anything. It's easy to write it off, pretend everything's cool, but… that facade can only go on for so long." I'm still staring down. "I definitely think it affected me more than I realize. Especially in… relationships," I admit reluctantly. "Or whatever. Trusting people is hard, I guess, so I'll basically be alone forever."

"You won't be alone—you got your old man."

"I know. But…" I give him a look. "It's different."

"I hear ya." He sips his beer. "Any of this have to do with Edward?"

"Maybe."

"What happened?"

"I don't know." I reorganize my letters and mumble, "Sometimes I get scared that a good thing won't last."

Charlie regards me for a moment. "That's no way to live, Bells."

"No shit."

"You ever think about talking to someone?"

"I'm talking to you."

"Someone with a fancy degree," he clarifies, and I shrug. "There are things I've had to tackle, too. Everyone has their crap. You just gotta be willing to put in the work and face your trauma head on. You gotta trust yourself enough to know you can handle digging deep. In the end, I think we all owe that to ourselves."

That came out of left field. "Okay, Dr. Phil—have you seen my dad? He's about yay high, has a giant mustache, and doesn't typically give such good advice."

Charlie laughs and shakes his head. "Give me some credit. I listen to a self-help podcast every now and then. It's lit."

I smile and shake my head. "Please never use that word again."

His grin is shy as he says, "Just tryin' to stay woke."

XXX

When it's just after ten, Charlie and I retire to our rooms. I scroll through Instagram for a minute, then promptly close it. Everyone's posts are happy and glowing and filled with family and friends and food. I know it's just social media, and people only share the highlight reel of their lives. I'd just rather not see all that tonight.

Just because I don't want to be on Instagram doesn't mean I'm not still feeling a little masochistic. I open my messages and scroll to Edward's name. I don't have to read his last text to know what it says because I've spent an embarrassing amount of time re-reading our messages. They're cute and flirty with expressions of love, and I just can't.

Or maybe I can. Maybe my talk with Charlie got me feeling vulnerable, forcing my pride to take a backseat for a moment. So I send him a text.

_Did Emmett try to bring his weed gravy again this year?_

It's a lame attempt at starting a conversation, but it's all I got. He immediately responds.

_Nah_

That's it. Nothing else. I'm torn between accepting the fact that I probably don't deserve anything else from him and being upset that's all he's willing to give. But then his text bubbles appear again.

_Looks like Rose changed him for the better_

If he's trying to make a dig at me or our short-lived relationship, it doesn't compute.

_How's Forks? _he types.

_Boring. How's the Cullen clan?_

_They miss you_

_Does that include you? _I type then delete it. It's not fair for me to ask that. It's probably not even fair I just texted him at all. We've barely spoken since our fight. It's been pretty quiet around the house with both of us hiding out in our rooms or being completely gone to avoid any awkward run-ins. When we have seen each other, it's tense. Kinda weird. And to be honest, I fucking hate it.

_You still there_? he asks.

_I'm still here_

And then he's calling me. Not just calling, but FaceTiming.

"Oh, good." He sighs dramatically, lying in bed at home. "It _is_ you."

"What?" My portion of the screen is kinda dim, so I turn on the light beside my twin bed.

"I just figured someone hijacked your phone or that you were abducted by aliens."

I offer a timid smile. "Why?"

"I wasn't sure why you'd suddenly reach out to me."

His words create a pang in my heart. "And aliens was a probability?"

"More so than you coming to your senses, yeah."

"Low blow, Cullen."

His face turns a little serious. "Is it weird I FaceTimed you?"

"Yes and no," I answer honestly. We stare at each other for a couple of seconds before I say, "What was the best thing you ate today? Explain it to me with lots of details please. The more adjectives, the better."

"I take it you didn't have the best Thanksgiving."

I lie on my side, propping the phone up against my other pillow so I don't have to hold it. "Well, Charlie's not the best cook, so I was basically in charge of everything."

"So you're saying there was nothing edible?"

I appreciate the sarcasm because for a second it makes things feel normal between us. And not romantic-normal, but the way we have always been toward one another—best friends with a side of snark, laced with flirtation.

"God. Another low blow. To what do I owe this pleasure?"

His lips press into a somber smile. "What can I say? I'm a scorned man."

I'm about to apologize, but stop myself. Because I'm scorned, too. He's not the only one this situation affected.

"I'm hurting too," I whisper.

His gaze softens for a moment. "I've missed this."

My heart skips. "What?"

"Talking to you. Joking with you. Just… you."

His words tug at my heart. Big time. "I miss you, too."

"Good. Are you done being ridiculous?"

"Edward."

"What? It's a valid question."

"Well it's making me feel shitty." My eyes drop away from the screen. "You're disregarding the way I feel, and I don't appreciate it."

A look of surprise morphs onto his face. "I'm sorry. That wasn't my intention. At all."

I sigh. "I'm allowed to be mad, okay?"

He nods. "I guess I'm just… I'm leaving soon. I don't really want my last few weeks in Seattle to be like this with us."

"I mean, I didn't want this to happen, either."

"Well?"

"Well, what? What do you expect me to do?"

His face is open, earnest. "Forgive me."

"It's not even like I haven't forgiven you, I just… I was scared before, so imagine how I feel now?" I blow out another sigh. "You lied to me. It's like… the one fucking thing I needed you not to do, Edward."

"There's nothing I can do to fix this, is there?" he asks, any ounce of hope gone from his voice.

"I don't know," I say honestly. "I don't know what I need. Maybe time?" He exhales, nodding. "Can I ask you something, though?"

"Of course," he says quietly.

I look away from the screen for a second. "When we were fighting and you asked me to move to LA… were you serious?"

"One-hundred-percent serious."

"Why didn't you bring it up before then?"

"Because I was worried."

"About what?"

"That it'd be too much, too soon. Not for me, but for you."

"Oh."

"I thought I'd scare you off. You finally got a new job; we were in a new relationship with plans to move in together after a year. I wasn't sure how much you were willing to… budge."

"And you thought blurting it out during a fight was a good time to mention it?"

He hesitates, unsure. "I was desperate, I guess. It felt like it was the only way I could show you I was serious about us."

I think about this. "So it was like a Hail Mary?"

His smirk is small. "Are you really referencing football?"

"I was with Charlie all day; cut me some slack."

"In a sense, sure. I had nothing to lose other than you. And that was already happening, so… yeah."

"I'm… I'm sorry."

"No, Bella, I'm—"

"No, really. I'm sorry I'm like, too emotionally fucked up to be with you."

"You're not emotionally fucked up."

"I am. You were right when you said I was waiting for something to happen. I was waiting for the other shoe to drop and that's just… not fair to you. At all." My eyes sting, and I press my face against my pillow for a second. "Don't get me wrong, I'm still pissed you lied. I know deep down you weren't trying to be malicious. But… it still hurts."

"I'm sorry, Bell. Seriously."

"I know."

He holds my gaze until I have to look away.

"Can I ask _you_ something now?" he asks.

"Yeah."

"If you're so self-aware about why you were pulling away from me... why don't you try working on it?"

Good fucking question. "Because I don't know where to start? And that's just one part to this messy puzzle. You're moving. It's gonna be hard."

"You don't think being together is worth it?"

"That's not what I'm saying," I counter.

"I mean... essentially you are." He frowns. "If the distance scares you, then come with me. The offer still stands. The offer will _always_ stand."

"I have a new job here—one that I actually like. I finally feel like part of the team. And… I'm really fucking good at this, Edward."

He nods along as I talk. "I get that. I do. It makes me really happy to hear, Bell. Seriously."

"Thank you," I say softly.

"But… I gotta be selfish. I really wish you were coming with me." I don't know what to say to this. "I'm not gonna try to push you into anything. I'm not gonna sit here and try to convince you to be with me again. It's just too humiliating. I showed you all my cards, and you know how I feel. Now whatever happens is up to you."

"That's a lot of pressure."

"Doesn't have to be," he says easily. "But I want things to be normal again. If you can't be with me like _that_, then I'd like to at least still be friends. I hate trying to avoid you. It doesn't make me happy."

"Me either," I mumble. "You really think we can be friends after this?"

"Yes. I know I can. You're gonna have to figure out what's best for yourself, though."

"I… think we can ease back into it." Relief fills my chest. "I don't want to completely lose you."

We fall silent for a few moments, but it's not entirely uncomfortable.

"I heard you didn't RSVP to my going-away party. Are you trying to skip out on it?"

I bite my lip. "I wasn't sure if I should go."

"You're literally the only person I want there. So, please come."

"Okay."

"Okay?" he repeats.

"I'll be there. Of course I'll fucking be there."

"Good." When he smiles it's small and doesn't meet his eyes. He looks like the epitome of a man who will take what he can get, and it hurts my heart. "How's Charlie?"

"He's fine. He goes back to work tomorrow, so I'll head back to the city."

"You gonna come with us to cut down a tree?"

"I don't know if I'll be back before dark."

"We'll go Saturday then."

"Don't go changing your plans because of me."

"Why not? It's tradition. Besides, changing a plan isn't a big deal to me. Especially when it involves you."

"Are you gonna keep doing that?"

"What?"

"Make me feel guilty?"

"No. Sorry." He clears his throat, scratching along his jaw. "I guess I'll let you go."

"What? No. I wanna talk."

"About what?" he asks gently.

"Anything. Everything."

So we do. We talk until two in the morning, until I'm yawning and trying really hard not to fall asleep. Edward urges me to go to bed, reminding me the trip back is gonna suck tomorrow—today—if I don't get some shut-eye. He's right, so we say goodnight. And when I accidentally tell him I love him, he wholeheartedly says it back.

* * *

**I'M ~STILL SORRY OKAY. I have a feeling I'll be saying that for a while.**

**Hadley and Liv are the best hand-holders and talk me off the ledge I've grown so accustomed to lol**


	20. Chapter 20

I've been in bed every night by eight.

Winter is kind of the worst, and the fact that it gets dark at 4:30 every day is disorienting. What's also disorienting—or maybe depressing is more accurate—is watching Edward pack a new box every other day. There's a stack of them in the living room, infiltrating our space while they await their ship date.

I'm in my room watching a movie on my laptop, when Rose shows up at my door. I don't see her as much as I hear her, because my comforter is pulled up around me like a shield.

"Get up, loser."

I sit up, blinking at her in confusion. "Why?"

"Stop being emo. I'm taking you out."

I wouldn't necessarily call myself emo but, "I'm fine right here, thank you very much."

She shakes her head, sighing. "I just signed us up for a wreath-making class."

"Again, why?"

"Because it's festive. And I don't think I can get a refund, so get a move on."

"I don't know." I pull my greasy hair into a bun. "There's no coming back from this," I say, using both hands to kind of motion around my face and body. "Maybe take Emmett?"

"Nope, you're going. It's called dry shampoo and hoop earrings. They're a girl's best friend. I'll meet you in the living room in ten."

"I never agreed to this!" I yell out as she walks away.

"You'll thank me later!" she calls back.

Quickly, I scrounge around my room for my earrings, pull my hair back into a low bun, and grab an oversized sweater to throw on over my leggings. It's not much, but it'll do.

On my way out, I find Edward in the kitchen, standing in front of the stove, making dinner. He's also wearing sweats, but he makes them look _good_. I try not to stare too long because the moment I walk in he glances my way, eyes lingering on my face.

"Hey. You hungry?" he asks. "I made extra just in case."

"I'm actually about to leave. Thanks, though."

"Where are you—" He stops, gaze floating over to me once more. There's a little apprehension in his eyes, and it makes my chest hurt. "Never mind."

"You can ask me where I'm going," I tell him quietly.

He nods, focusing on the skillet in front of him. "If it's a date, I don't want to know."

I'm a little shocked he assumes I'd move on so quickly. It also makes me a little sad, because that means he doesn't believe I felt as strongly for him as I did—as I do.

"I'm going out with Rose," I reassure him. "I'm not… dating. Are _you_?"

"No. I'm not interested in anyone else."

"Okay." Falling silent, I linger by the stove, not wanting to leave quite yet. "I went to therapy last week," I say out of nowhere. I haven't told anyone yet, and maybe it's no one's business. But for some reason, I want to talk about it with him. More than that, I want him to know I'm trying.

"How was that?" he asks neutrally.

I shrug. "I didn't think that finding a therapist would be… hard. I figured I'd just pick someone who's covered by insurance, and then I'd be magically healed."

He turns off the burner, a small sympathetic smile on his lips. "If only it were that easy."

"I think I need to keep searching for someone I like. Someone I feel comfortable with."

His brows knit together. "You didn't feel comfortable?"

"Maybe it's me. Maybe talking about myself is hard. It's just such a weird experience."

"I'm sure the more you do it, the easier it'll get," he says carefully. Our eyes stay locked and his gaze turns tender, causing my heart to race. "I'm glad to hear you're doing all that. Really."

"Me too," I whisper.

"Why is my girlfriend ditching me to hang out with your scrub-ass, Bella?" Emmett asks, walking into the kitchen.

"Maybe she wants a break from your bullshit for one night?" I don't even laugh when I say it. But I know why Rose really wants to hang out—it's because she's worried about my mental health, and she's trying to be a good friend.

"Ouch," Em says. "You're not 'Heartbroken' Bella, you're 'Hateful' Bella."

"Em. Cut it out," Edward chimes in, sticking up for me.

"Yeah, Em," I add. "Don't be a douchebag."

He frowns. "I thought y'all were broken up. Doesn't that mean I get at least one of you on my side now?"

"No," Edward and I say simultaneously. We smile at each other, and for a second things feel normal and fine. Until I remember that he hurt me, so I hurt him in return, and our smiles fade in unison.

XXX

When Christmas Day rolls around, I spend it alone. The plan was to go to Charlie's, but then I got sick a few days ago. The thought of taking the ferry and driving over two hours to get to Forks while feeling miserable didn't sound appealing, so we decided to postpone our Christmas until after the new year. Charlie was kind enough to suggest coming to Seattle, but I promised him I'd be fine. There were mumblings about Billy's fish fry, and I knew he'd much rather do that than come into the city.

I'm posted up on the couch, watching _It's a Wonderful Life_ and eating leftover pumpkin pie. Only the glow from the TV and Christmas tree lights up the room. The Duraflame I lit hours ago flickers and pops, but it's nearly out. I'm debating putting on another log when the front door opens and in walks Edward.

"What are you doing here?" I ask, pausing the movie. "I thought you stayed at your parents' place on Christmas."

"I had to get out of there." He sits on the coffee table, untying his boots. "Too many people were crashing there. Namely my aunt, her husband, and their moody teenagers."

"So what you're saying is that there wasn't enough room at the inn?"

He smirks. "Clever."

"Where's Emmett?"

"Staying with Rose."

"What's that?" I ask, pointing toward the Tupperware and bottle of whiskey next to him.

"Leftovers from dinner and the cure to your cold," he says. "My dad thought a hot toddy was just what you needed."

"He's a doctor, so I definitely have to listen to him."

"Exactly. C'mon."

I follow him into the kitchen. He tells me to heat the kettle, so I fill it with water and set it on the stove. He squeezes lemon and drops a dollop of honey into each mug before pouring in a generous amount of whiskey. Soon enough the water has boiled, and he finishes the drink by adding hot water.

He hands me a mug, clinking his glass to mine.

"Thanks." I blow on it, taking a small sip. "Fuck, that's hot. It feels good on my throat, though."

"Good." He nods, hesitating for a second. "What are you watching?"

"_It's a Wonderful Life_."

"Is it cool if I finish it with you?"

"Sure."

He follows me into the living room and sits on the couch, making a point to stay on the opposite end. I can't help when my mind wanders back to the time we had sex right here. By the look on his face, he's also thinking about it.

"What's the movie about?" he asks, thankfully switching the gears in my brain.

"Are you kidding me?" I balk, curling up and pulling the blanket over my legs.

"What?"

"How have you never watched this?"

"I don't know."

"It's the fucking best," I say, suddenly excited. "Should I start it from the beginning?"

His smile is sincere. "Just fill me in on what I missed."

So I do. I explain the movie to him in great detail, describing all of the relationships and analyzing all of the major scenes. When I start to accidentally spoil some parts he urges me to go on, promising this is probably better than the actual movie. It's not, and I tell him as much. But he's having fun—_we're_ having fun—so I keep going, for close to ten minutes, eventually explaining the entire movie.

"And then he looks up, winking, and says 'Atta boy, Clarence.'"

Edward stifles his laughter. "Wow. Are you crying?"

"No. It's just sweat from my strenuous performance."

"You were definitely getting emotional," he says, sipping his drink.

"Well, that's because it's heartwarming. I'm surprised you're not shedding a tear or two."

"Hard to be moved with those acting skills."

"Sorry, not everyone took a series of drama classes in middle school like you did."

"I've never regretted anything more than telling you about that," he mumbles, yawning. "I should probably go to bed."

"Right now?"

"Unless you want another drink?"

I look at the clock. It's just after eleven, but I'm having fun, and I feel warm, and I don't want him to leave just yet. I don't want him to ever leave but definitely not right now. Not on Christmas, when things finally feel okay.

"Sure. Less toddy, more whiskey."

"Meaning?"

"Just whiskey."

He raises his eyebrows. "Okay."

I stay on the couch until he returns with two lowballs of liquor. He hands me mine, and I take a long pull, enjoying the way the spice tingles my tongue but not thrilled with the way it sends a chill down my spine.

"So how was Christmas?"

"It was fine," he says, sitting a little closer than before.

"Fine? Did you not get everything you wanted?"

He gives me a look, one that I assume conveys no, he didn't get everything he wanted. Instead of touching on that he says, "It used to be a small thing, but now my dad's side of the family comes. And it's fine, whatever, I get it. The more the merrier. It's just a lot of different personalities for one evening."

"I feel that," I muse, nodding. "I actually don't know why I said that. Charlie and I never did a big thing, so I can't really relate. It does sound overwhelming, though."

"You could've come with me tonight."

"I know. I just… I didn't want it to be awkward."

"My aunt was drinking directly from a bottle of wine. Awkward was the theme of the night."

I laugh, shaking my head. "Classy. What did your parents get you?"

"Jeans, a pair of boots, and some fancy noise-canceling headphones."

I click my tongue. "Doesn't sound like you got the one thing you actually wanted, though."

His eyes stay on my face. "Which is?"

I smile, disappearing to my room to grab his present.

"I hope it's not weird," I prompt, sitting next to him again. "I ordered it before everything happened and… yeah."

"Not weird," he says, catching my eye. "I actually have something for you, too."

"Open mine first."

He tears at the paper, immediately laughing when he picks up the travel pillow with a hood attached, the one he joked about on our flight to LA. He rolls his eyes, but his smile is sincere. "You really shouldn't have."

"Put it on." I grab it from him, placing the pillow on his shoulders and sliding the hood up over his head, covering his eyes. And just for fun, I tug at the drawstrings, tightening them around his face. "Really, you've never looked better."

"Gee, thanks," he says dryly, eyes still hidden.

I loosen the strings and pull the hood back, revealing his face again. I'm so close, touching him, and for a second, my stomach tightens with anticipation.

"I need to go grab your gift," he says quietly, taking off the pillow before leaving the room.

When he's gone, I focus a little too intently on folding his wrapping paper into a neat little rectangle. I'm nervous, but I don't know why.

He returns a minute later, carrying a sketchpad. "So, my gift isn't as nicely wrapped as yours. Or wrapped at all."

"That's okay."

Opening the book, he flips through a few pages before tearing out two sheets and handing them to me. My eyes settle on the drawing, staring at the first place we ever lived together. It was a duplex, a real shithole. The sketch he drew is so spot-on, though. Every detail precise, from the rust on the railing to the crack in the steps, and the one part of the roof that still had Christmas lights from the tenants before us. Nostalgia tugs at my heart.

I slip the first drawing under the second to find our current house—a one-story bungalow, every charming detail present. The lonesome tree in the sloped yard, the detached garage just off to the side. The exposed brick and the worn wood.

"Wow," I breathe.

"I didn't know what to get you," he says self-consciously. "The idea was to draw a third place for your present next year, after we moved in together. But. Yeah. I know it's kinda—"

"Perfect. Seriously, thank you. I think this might be my favorite gift ever."

We stare at one another, eyes lingering, the air thick with tension.

He clears his throat then reaches for his glass, lightening the mood. "Your favorite, huh? Then what's the worst gift you've ever gotten? I'd like to know how low the bar is set."

I don't even have to think about it. "Renee sent me five bottles of face wash for my sixteenth birthday," I say, slipping the drawings back into the sketchbook for safekeeping.

"That's pretty bad."

"I was partially happy because it meant she actually remembered my birthday, but yeah. What about you?"

"A radar detector. I'd gotten a couple speeding tickets one year, and my dad thought it was funny or would help me not get caught. My mom was pissed and accused him of condoning my speeding, so she made him return it."

I playfully shove his shoulder, not buying his bad-boy status. "Edward Cullen, speed demon? I can't imagine it. Why were you breaking the law?"

When he brings his glass up to his lips, he laughs before he takes a sip. "What can I say? I'm a rebel."

"Definitely not without a cause."

His eyes crinkle. "Oh, shut up."

"I bet you were rushing to return a library book. Or maybe you were running late to volunteer at the soup kitchen," I continue, poking fun. "Or—"

Closing the distance, he kisses me. It doesn't catch me off guard as much as it should, and I kiss him back, harder. My glass is still in my hand, and some whiskey kind of sloshes over the side, onto my skin. I don't care though. I don't care, and I blindly feel for the coffee table, finding any surface for it to land safely because his lips are on me, and I'm on fire.

We haven't done this in over a month, and it feels so good. His kiss is rough, and his stubble is abrasive, but it's such a welcome pain. Our mouths move together roughly, open and wanting. I grip at his shoulders, lying back and pulling him on top of me.

His hands are all over me, sliding up my shirt, palming my breast. Then he's pulling off my T-shirt, and his mouth is on my chest, kissing a hot trail down my stomach then back up to my lips.

I lift my hips, meeting his. And we make contact. Over and over again. He's so hard, straining against his jeans, and then I'm internally begging him to fuck me or love me or whatever he can give me. Because I just want him, despite all my stupidity. I want him to turn down the job, and I want his lips to have not touched Kate's. More than all of that, I want this man to have not lied to me. But I know I can't have any of those things because they've already happened. The only thing left now is to get past them, to move on, but I don't know how.

As if he is reading my mind, his movements slow, and he pulls back, sitting up on his heels and catching his breath.

"Sorry."

"Why?"

Scrubbing a hand over his face, he says, "I shouldn't have started that."

"I let it happen, too. It's okay." I lean over, about to meet his mouth again, when he pulls away.

"It's not okay. I'm not trying to just fuck you," he blurts. "Because then I'm going to want to be with you. I'm leaving Seattle in a week, and I'm not gonna be able to convince you to trust me while I'm gone. So, I don't think this is a good idea."

I try to not look completely rejected but fail miserably.

Before I'm able to actually reply, he tosses me my shirt and grabs his tumbler of whiskey, mumbling "Merry Christmas" and disappearing down the hallway.

* * *

**Oy. Thanks for reading, y'all! I really appreciate it so, so much. Next update will be Monday!  
**

**I know I'm always singing her praises, but Hadley's my homegirl and I wouldn't have been able to post this much, this often, if it weren't for her support. :)  
**


	21. Chapter 21

The face of my therapist, Emily, is oddly neutral for having just told her Edward and I almost had sex on Christmas. I guess _almost _isn't necessarily true. But I was topless. And I wanted so badly to be with him, so I tell her as much.

I don't understand how she doesn't react. No matter what I say, she sits stoically, listening. Not responding, at least not negatively. I wish I could be more like her in that way.

Emily knows all about my past and how it's been affecting my future. She knows about Renee, mostly, and she knows _everything_ about Edward. My story with him is easy to tell. Renee's is harder, and allowing myself to open up about her takes a lot out of me emotionally.

When she asks if I stopped the intimacy with Edward, I tell her that _he_ did. I admit I would've let it progress, let him fuck me on the couch. I don't say it as crassly, but the sentiment remains.

She suggests there is comfort with Edward, and it's going back to what I know. She thinks I'm seeking some semblance of normalcy, even grasping for it because of his impending move. She reminds me that resorting to being sexual before my issues have been sufficiently dealt with, won't do either of us any good.

Near the end of our session, she tells me that giving in to old patterns doesn't serve me. In the same breath, she reminds me it's going to happen, over and over again. I'll slip up, make mistakes. Not with Edward—because nothing with him has been a mistake—but in other aspects of my life. She says I need to be gentle with myself. Breaking old habits is hard, and retraining my brain to stop assuming the worst will happen and that everyone is out to hurt me is going to take time.

"How long we talkin'?" I ask, trying to bring some sort of humor to this intense conversation.

"Longer than five sessions." Her smile is genuine. "I'll see you next week."

XXX

The day of Edward's going-away party also happens to be New Year's Eve.

Rose and I get ready for his party together. She's better at this stuff than I am, and I'm thankful to have her around. She offers to curl my hair so it's wavy and brings over a black dress she thought would look good on me. She was right—it does, but it's a little more revealing than I'd like, so I make a note to keep my black moto jacket on all night.

She's kneeling above me while I sit in front of my full-length mirror, hair wrapped around the wand.

"—and I'm ready, but I don't know if it just seems too soon?"

"What?" I ask, zoning back in.

"Em's gonna meet my parents."

"Oh."

"You've been kind of quiet," she says, and I find her eyes in the mirror. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, why?"

A small, concerned smile plays on her lips. "Your loverboy is leaving tomorrow. That's why."

"Ha, ha." My gaze lowers, and I focus on a stack of eyeshadow.

"You're really sticking to your guns, huh?"

I look at her again. "What do you mean?"

"I thought you would've gotten back with him. We all did."

"It's complicated," I mumble, watching her grab another section of hair.

"So you like torturing yourself." I give her a pointed look. "Whatever, he lied. But was it really that bad? He's not malicious."

"I understand that. But do you know what it's like to be lied to most of your life?"

"No. But, if that has happened to you, shouldn't you be used to it?"

I know she means well, but, "That's not how it works, Rose."

"I figured. I thought it was worth a shot though," she replies, sighing.

The subject is dropped, and soon enough, she's done with my hair. She tousles it, basically undoing everything she did, and spritzes textured spray through the strands to keep it in place. My hair has never looked better, and with the makeup she's added to make my eyes pop, I'd say I look pretty decent.

When we're done getting ready, she gathers her stuff, and I clean up a little around my room. It's been a little chaotic with my work schedule and Christmas and being sick, and I kinda let my room go to shit. When I move a pile of clothes from the floor to my bed to sort through, I find one of Edward's shirts. I pause and debate whether or not to give it back to him. In the end, I shove it in my drawer, keeping it for myself. Not every piece of him has to leave Seattle.

When it's almost seven and time to head out for the party, I find only Edward downstairs waiting for me. He's wearing dark jeans, his new boots with a white T-shirt, and a thin navy bomber jacket.

In other words, he looks fucking good. A bit tired, but good.

"Where is everybody?" I ask, pushing my hair back so I can put my gold hoops in.

"Apparently they're gonna meet us there."

It feels purposeful on their part, but I don't question it. "Got it."

"You look… " He pauses, eyes sweeping over my body.

"Too much?" I ask, suddenly nervous that Rose overdid it.

"No. You look beautiful."

I hold his gaze. "Thank you."

He points at my shoes. "Aren't those a little tall, though?"

"The heel is chunky—I'll be fine."

"Okay." He grabs his beanie, looking at me in warning. "I'm not gonna carry you like I did last New Year's."

"I'm not asking you to." I have a snippy tone when I say it, but only because thoughts of being flirty and fun last year fill my mind. We didn't kiss at midnight, but part of me had hoped. Apparently a lot of things can change in just one year.

"You ready?" he asks, shoving the mess of his hair under the beanie.

"Yep."

The drive to the restaurant is quiet. It's not completely uncomfortable, though. He messes with the radio but shuts it off when nothing good is playing.

"What time do you fly out?" I ask. I remember, of course I fucking do. I just want something to talk about with him. But maybe his departure isn't the best topic for my heart.

"Flight's at ten in the morning."

"Yikes."

He keeps his eyes on the road. "I know."

I clear my throat, starting at his profile. "Thanks for driving." When he glances over at me, I don't pull my eyes away from him. "Wait, what are you gonna do with your car?"

He shrugs, eyes back on the road. "My parents are gonna take it. Probably sell it. I don't know."

"You don't need it?"

"I mean, I'll probably just end up getting another." Looking over his shoulder, he switches lanes. "This beat-up old thing doesn't really need to be seen in LA."

"Your glitzy new life requires a glitzy new car," I muse. I sound more bitter than I intended.

"You want it?" he asks, after a beat.

"What, your car?"

"Yeah, I dunno. Save my parents the hassle of having to get rid of it."

"You're just gonna give me your car?" I ask, shocked.

"It's not necessarily a nice vehicle," he laughs. "But it's reliable, and it's paid off."

I'm still confused. "You're getting a new car to have in LA for one year?"

He falls quiet, and it's long enough for me to wonder why but not long enough to actually ask.

"Yeah. Well. The car's yours if you want it. I'll tell my parents, and they can figure out transferring the title and whatnot."

"Okay. Sure," I say, drawing out the word, still slightly confused. "Thank you."

"You got it." He nods, gently pounding the steering wheel twice with his fist. "You'll be in good hands."

"I know."

"I was talking to the car."

He glances over with a small, sweet smirk, and I can't help but mirror it in return.

XXX

The Cullens spare no expense for their son's going-away party. They rent out the back bar at Bastille, a bougie but relaxed French restaurant. The space is dim, intimate. There's a chandelier that glows above us, a deep mahogany bar that's backlit with an amber hue, and tables of different height spread throughout, so everyone can mix and mingle without feeling too forced or fancy.

There's easily sixty guests or more here, ranging from both sides of Edward's family, his buddies from high school and college, and the family friends he grew up with. Needless to say, he's the man of the hour, and I hardly see him the entire night.

The cocktails are small but strong, and I find myself getting a little toasted early on. The hors d'oeuvres circling around the room are delicious but not very filling. Every time a server walks past me with a tray of food, I happily oblige even if I can't quite tell what I'm eating. Emmett follows suit but nearly spits his food out when he eats chicken liver pate on a cracker.

"Hey there, kiddo."

I turn to see Carlisle standing next to me. He's wearing a red sweater and the warmest smile as he hands me a cocktail.

"Can't have you empty-handed," he teases.

"Thank you," I say, and we raise our glasses in a toast. "This is good."

"It's a French 75."

"Vodka?"

"Gin and champagne."

"I'm terrible at mixing my liquors. Already had tequila and vodka tonight. Woof."

"I won't tell anyone." Carlisle winks. "We missed ya at Christmas. You feeling better?"

"Sure." I sip the drink, letting it burn its way down to my stomach. "Actually, I wouldn't say I'm feeling much better."

Carlisle frowns. "No?"

Hesitating, I let the booze speak for me. "I haven't been the greatest friend to your son lately. We're… yeah. We haven't really hung out. Things are a little strange."

"I see."

I look away. "I'm sad he's leaving, so I've been kinda keeping my distance. Maybe it'll hurt less when he's gone, you know?"

"Out of sight, out of mind," Carlisle muses.

"Yeah."

"I never found that to ring true."

With another lengthy gulp of my cocktail, my eyes travel across the room to where Edward is standing. He's lost in conversation, laughing along with someone. I stare at his strong profile, how he talks animatedly with his hands. I don't realize I'm still watching until Carlisle clears his throat.

"So how's all that avoidance working out for you? 'Cause I gotta say, it's been killing my son."

I jerk my head in Carlisle's direction, regarding him carefully. His expression is gentle, like he knows everything.

"Edward told you about us?"

"It's been pretty obvious by his moping around and your sudden disappearance. I know the signs of a broken heart when I see one. I've just never actually seen _him_ like this."

My eyes cast downward, staring into my glass. "I'm completely screwing things up, aren't I?"

"I'm not one to judge. You don't have to have everything figured out. But he's pretty adamant when he sets his sights on something… or someone." Carlisle bumps my shoulder with his, giving me a knowing look. "Just don't be too hard on him, will ya? He's got a sensitive heart, and he's pretty damn fond of you. I know leaving has been a difficult decision."

My smile is somber. "I care about him, too."

"Surely it can't be too difficult to figure out, then?"

"One would think. There are some… extenuating circumstances," I mumble vaguely. "I'm trying to work through some stuff."

"Well, I won't pry. You two will figure it out." Carlisle nods emphatically. "Looks like my son has spotted me and might be curious about what we're talking about, so I should skedaddle."

With a wink, Carlisle hugs me quickly before joining Em and Rose. I look over and see Edward across the room, walking toward me. Our eyes stay locked, but before he makes it to me, he's pulled into another conversation. I stand idly for a minute then finish off my drink and head outside, needing a breather.

It's cold out but not unbearable. I think that has more to do with my alcohol consumption, though.

A couple of people stumble out from the party, and from the sounds of it, are sufficiently drunk. A car pulls up, and I watch as they climb inside the Prius before it drives away. The restaurant door swings open again, but this time, Edward walks out.

"The man of the hour," I say lamely but offer a friendly smile.

"What are you doing out here, Swan? It's cold."

"Just wanted some air."

He stares down at me, sliding his hands into his pockets of his jacket. "I think some of us are gonna head down the street and grab a few more drinks. You in?"

"I could be."

He exhales, breath appearing with a puff. "Could be?"

"I'm kinda drunk. Your parents with the fucking open bar, man. Gets me every time."

"I mean, it's not like they forced you to drink," he pokes fun.

"Yeah, yeah."

He finally sits on the bench, closer than what could be considered friendly. I don't mind though because being near him feels so good and warm. It's quiet outside, but the hum of conversation spills out from the space behind us. I stare at the holiday decorations still strung along the street—lamp posts adorned with wreaths, nearby buildings still lit up with twinkling lights.

I turn my head to the side to stare at him. "I don't know if I'm gonna make it to midnight."

He gives me a long, unconvinced look. "Bullshit."

"Seriously. I might head out soon."

"The night is young, Bella."

"It's after ten."

"Sure, okay. Go home—leave me on my last night."

My gaze softens. "Laying it on a little thick, huh?"

He smiles, shrugging. "One more drink, then we can go home," he coaxes gently. "Stay with me."

His words are sweet, and so is the way he's gazing at me. And maybe the alcohol made him warm, or maybe I'm the one it softened. Maybe the reminder that tomorrow, we're parting ways for a year, is making us a little sentimental. He leans over a bit, shoulder brushing against mine. And this is why I was trying to leave early because I'm worried about what might happen if I drink anymore and stay near him. We always find a way to be around each other, like right now with him sitting so close and staring at my mouth. If he wanted to kiss me, he could. We're close enough, and I'd probably let him. But I know I shouldn't.

He lingers but doesn't make a move, eventually pulling his gaze from my lips.

"Well?"

"Okay, twist my arm. One more drink. Then home?" I ask.

I swear his eyes grow a shade darker. "That's the plan."

When he stands, he reaches over and tugs on my hands until I'm standing too. He guides me back inside, and we say goodnight to all the necessary people, his mom getting a little weepy with her goodbye even though she and Carlisle will drive him to the airport tomorrow morning.

Eventually a small group of us are ready to go, and we stumble up the street to our next destination. I don't frequent this area often, but one of Edward's classmates knows a good place that's nearby. When we walk in, it's pretty busy, but there's an empty area near the darts and pool table. We post up, a few people ordering pitches of beer for everyone to share.

I'm just finishing my beer when I see Ben standing across the bar with a small group of people. I don't go over to him because I'm drunk, and I know this might be weird. I definitely don't need to say something completely embarrassing to make showing up at work on Monday awkward. But then he spots me, smiles, and heads over.

"Hey!"

I smile. "Hi. How's it going?"

"Good, good. I've never seen you here before."

"That's because this is the bougie part of town," I tease.

He chuckles along with me. "My cover is blown. I'm a bougie bastard."

"As if you were pretending otherwise," I laugh. "Everyone already knows."

He tips his head in agreement. "So what's going on? Who you here with?"

"It's my roommate's going-away party. He's moving to LA tomorrow."

"The bingo guy?" he asks, and I assume he's referring to Em.

"The other one," I say. "The one I was… dating."

His eyebrows rise in understanding, but he doesn't push. "He's gonna love LA. It's great."

My lips press into an unconvincing smile. "I bet."

"You got something against LA?" I make a face but don't add another word. "I've actually been working with some farms in California recently."

I pretend to be intrigued. "Oh?"

"Yeah, there are a few who grow coffee bushes under the canopies of the old avocado trees. We're trying to lock some down to become roasting partners. It's still a ways away, but yeah, we could be opening a site in Cali."

"Like in LA?" I ask, genuinely intrigued now.

"Not necessarily. Maybe San Diego." He leans closer to my ear, voice quieter. "I should shut my mouth in case it falls through. Don't wanna jinx it."

I nod, snorting out a laugh. "Got it. So who are you with tonight?"

He points across the bar with his beer. "You know Paul from the office. His girlfriend's over there, too, and then just one of my buddies."

"Fun."

"Yeah. I think you'd like Claire—she has family in Forks. Isn't there where your dad is?"

"Yeah. I'm surprised you remember that. I'm also surprised that she has family there. It's such a small town."

"So I've heard." He smiles, eyes flitting past me. "You should come join us for a little bit. I'll buy you a drink."

"You don't have to do that," I laugh awkwardly.

"I know I don't have to, but I want to."

"I might actually be leaving soon." Glancing behind me, I don't see Edward nearby, but Rose and Em are still in the corner near the dartboard.

"You're younger than I am—aren't you supposed to be able to rally?" He breathes out a laugh. "One drink."

I shrug. "Okay."

I make my way over to their group, getting introduced to everyone. Ben buys another beer and orders the same for me. I join in on their conversation about _The Mandalorian_, but I can't really offer up much since I haven't seen it. Eventually Paul and his girlfriend excuse themselves to the bar, and his friend disappears to the bathroom, leaving Ben and I alone.

"How was Christmas?" he asks politely.

"Fine. I was sick. I'm glad to be going back to work Monday. Stay busy—you know the drill."

"More than I would like to," he laughs. "There's always some fire to put out. I kinda crave the chaos though. Hustling is good."

We hear a group of people grow rowdy with laughter and look over. I see Emmett, Rose, and a few of our other friends, playing an intense game of darts. But I still don't see Edward. I scan the area for a few seconds but still come up empty. I tune back in and realize Ben's speaking, but I'd completely missed what he said.

"Sorry, what?"

He smiles. "I was saying that you really saved my ass."

"How so?"

"We can go over the actual data when we get back to work, but we got the analytics from Instagram. I don't think I've ever seen our page receive so much traffic. You've really impressed me these last few months."

"The page just needed a little TLC. Anyone could've taken over and you'd probably have the same results," I laugh, downplaying his compliment. "Being consistent with content helps."

"I think it helps that you know what you're doing. And you're good at it, too." He takes a swig of beer. "Hate to break it to ya, but people like you."

His eyes linger on my face. This suddenly this feels more intimate than it should. He hasn't necessarily done or said nothing to make this weird or for me to think he's hitting on me. But the vibe changed, or maybe it was this way all along. Maybe I suck at picking up on things like that.

Paul and Claire make their way back over, alerting us it's almost midnight.

"I should head back over to my friends," I tell them, then look at Ben. "Thank you for the beer. And the conversation."

"Of course." He looks a bit surprised at my sudden departure, but he nods anyway. "I'll see you Monday."

I nod in return and make my way over to Emmett, tugging on his sleeve and completely throwing off his aim.

"You fucked me up," he complains, then tells Eric he gets a redo.

"Where's Edward?"

"I dunno. He left like, five minutes ago."

"What?" I glance around, not believing Em. "Did he go home?"

Em shrugs. "Yeah. Dude's drunk." He picks up another dart, then pokes fun at me, nodding in Ben's direction. "Hey, how was your date?"

"Shut up. He's my boss."

"Tell that to Edward. He's not happy about it."

"He shouldn't care. We're not together." Even after I mumble it, I know how fucked up it is.

"Promise me you're not gonna say that to him," Emmett chides. "That's the stupidest thing you could think, let alone say out loud."

I glare at Em, but deep down, I know the anger I feel is pointed at the wrong person. I'm mad at myself, really. I know I didn't actually do anything wrong. But if the situation was reversed, and Edward was off talking to someone I didn't know—someone I blatantly expressed feelings of jealousy over—I'd feel the exact same way. I'm not even sure if he knows it was Ben. But if he does, he's going to assume talking to him was purposeful, when in reality it wasn't. I would never blatantly want to hurt him.

Pulling out my phone, I call Edward, but he doesn't answer. I try a second time, but his phone goes straight to voicemail. His apparent avoidance makes my heart race, my palms sweat. I feel anxious, and more than a little sick. He's leaving in less than twelve hours and this is not how I imagined the night going.

"You're leaving?" Rose asks as I grab my purse.

"I'm going after him," I tell her, requesting an Uber before slipping my phone in my bag.

"Bella." She pauses, giving me a look. "Why?"

"What do you mean _why_?"

"Just… it's a little confusing, right? Chasing after him… kissing on Christmas…"

I blink. "He told you that?"

"No. He told Em."

I blow out a breath. "I'm not trying to be confusing or give him mixed signals." He's not really helping the situation, either. Giving me the sweetest handmade Christmas present, offering up his car. Sitting so close tonight, staring at my lips, begging me to stay a little longer. "It's not just me," I tell her. "Besides, I just want to make sure he's not mad. I can't let him leave like that."

"Okay." She hugs me then offers an unconvincing, "Be careful."

But I can hear what she's really saying. She's telling me to back off, to let him go. And to not fuck this up more than I potentially already have.

* * *

**One last teeny tiny update before Monday. I'll be traveling all day so come at me with your thoughts!**

**Next update will actually be Monday. **

**Hadley helped last minute when I was like, "Yo, I'm splitting two chapters and ****updating**** early. You down?" So thankful for her!**


	22. Chapter 22

When I make my way outside the bar, I find Edward with his back against the brick of the building, hands in the pockets of his jacket. His eyes immediately pierce me.

"Hey." I stand in front of him, regarding him carefully. "You turned your phone off?"

"No."

"It went to voicemail after I called, so..."

"I think we were trying to call each other at the same time."

"Oh."

We fall quiet, and it's obvious he's not gonna be the one to keep the conversation going.

"I thought you left," I say softly. "I was worried. I thought—"

"I wouldn't just leave you," he says, face serious. "But I also didn't want to interrupt. You looked… busy."

"I wasn't."

"You were talking to someone."

I hesitate. "That was Ben."

Edward really focuses on me now, eyes a bit narrowed. So maybe he didn't know it was Ben after all.

"I don't like him," he says finally, looking away.

"You don't have to. But I do. Or I at least have to be friendly."

"_Friendly_ includes letting him buy you a drink?"

"Edward," I say softly. "It's not like that."

His jaw tenses. "Are you sure _he_ knows that?"

I think back to the vibe I got from Ben, the one that pushed me to end our conversation early, and add, "Even if it's not innocent on his part, _I'm_ not interested."

"Did he hit on you?"

"No. Just because a dude is talking to me doesn't mean he wants to get into my pants."

"Right, because guys want to be _just_ _friends_ with attractive females," he deadpans.

The wind picks up, blowing my hair around my face. I fall silent at his words, regarding him carefully. He's definitely drunk. I mean, so am I. But I've never really seen him like this before—visibly annoyed and frustrated with me. He's also never really spoken to me this way, so brazen and clearly full of anger. It takes me aback, and I reach down, grabbing for his hand. He lets me hold it, even entwining his fingers tighter around mine.

"Ben isn't a problem, okay? People can be friends," I mumble. "You and I were friends for years."

He gives me a very pointed look. "Ask me."

"Ask you what?"

His features have softened a little, his anger fading slightly. "Ask me how long I was into you before we got together."

"I don't know," I say, trying to deflect from the rapid beating in my chest. "I don't want to know." Of course I want to know, but there's no way whatever he's going to say isn't gonna hurt. From the way he's staring at me, he's going to say it was a very long time before I caught on, and I don't know if my heart can take that right now.

He exhales, small smirk on his lips, like he's not surprised I'm being stubborn about this. "You got in my head early on. Like, those first few months of living together."

"I didn't know." I stare down at my too-tall shoes. "You didn't act like it."

"I mean... I kinda did. You just didn't pick up on it. Besides, I wasn't trying to fuck up our living situation. And being your friend was enough for a while, only because you opened up to me more as a friend than you probably would have if we were dating," he says gently, somehow knowing me better than I know myself. "That doesn't mean if you came to me years ago, I would've turned you down. I would've been with you in a heartbeat, if you had been ready back then."

"Please stop," I mumble, moving closer and pressing both hands against his chest as I look up at him.

He dips his head, staring down at me. "Why?"

"Because it's hard to hear."

Because it makes me wanna go back to the beginning, to first knowing him. I want to redo everything, maybe change fate. I'd work on myself long before he comes into the picture, so I'm happy and healthy and emotionally stable. And that's all it really is, right? It was me, this entire time. My own issues, my own self-doubt keeping us apart.

I feel his hand snake around the back of my waist the same moment the Uber pulls up to the curb.

"Come home with me. Please?" I ask, stepping backward.

"That was the original plan, wasn't it? One drink, then home." His breath appears with his exhale. "Not go have a second drink with the overly-flirty boss."

"I looked for you. I didn't see you, and I was gonna—"

"You weren't looking hard enough then."

I close my mouth. "I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to piss you off. Please come home with me?"

His nod is solemn as he pushes off the building, hand on the small of my back to guide me. When we reach the car, he opens the door and lets me slide in first. We sit close—the driver fumbling with the radio, telling us to let him know if we want to change the music.

After a minute, I turn to Edward, watching the lights from beyond the window flicker across his face.

"I'm sorry I was getting jealous," he says, eyes still out the window. "I just… I'm worried. About leaving, about you moving on. It's fucking with me."

I appreciate how honest he's being, how vulnerable he is. He has the ability to recognize his feelings so easily, and I kind of envy him for it.

"Don't be sorry. I get it. I'd be upset too," I whisper, so tempted to reach for his hand again. "Did you have fun at your party?" I change the subject, so he'll just talk to me and forget about all the bad shit.

"Yeah."

"I didn't realize so many people liked you," I muse, poking a little fun to further lighten the mood.

"Shut up," he says, voice low but slightly amused. "It's very _Esme _to invite everyone we know. She's always been like that—birthdays, graduations. She thinks every celebration deserves a crowd."

"Your mom really loves you, you know that?" I say it offhandedly, to drive the point home that throwing him such a wonderful party was thoughtful. I don't realize it's going to cause such a pang in my chest until after I say it.

He glances over. "My mom loves you, too." I don't know what I can say to this, so I opt for nothing. "Just because I'm leaving, it doesn't mean you can't still hang with my parents."

"That wouldn't be weird?"

"No. My parents still want you to hang out, keep them company. If it's weird, you don't have to. But the option is there. I know Em is still gonna pester them, but mostly because he loves a free meal."

I nod. "I guess the next year will be a little quiet for them until you're back."

When I say it, his gaze grows distant. "Shit," he breathes. I watch his face, watch him war internally with himself. "Bella?"

"Yeah?"

"I don't know if that's happening now."

"What?" My pulse spikes with slight excitement, because for a moment I think he's saying he's not leaving after all. Judging by the look on his face, I realize what he's saying isn't necessarily good news. "I thought… I mean, you're coming back after a year, right?"

"That was the plan, but I'm not sure I necessarily need to be in Seattle again. I mean, maybe down the road. But it's not really a priority anymore. Not like it was when we were together."

"Oh." I try to keep my face stoic, but it's hard not to let the disappointment show. It makes sense. Really, it does. I'm not sure why I assumed he'd come back for me when I've been so _blatantly_ scared about being with him and pushed him away. We broke up, and we haven't talked about what it would look like for us when—if—he transferred to the Seattle office. "Why didn't you tell me before now?"

"When was I supposed to mention it? We haven't necessarily spent much time together since we broke up."

"Okay. Yeah. It's fine," I say, sounding anything but fine. "Stay in LA. It's probably better that way. I just didn't realize the plan changed, that's all."

"I didn't realize you wanted to be part of the plan," he says sadly.

"I just… it doesn't matter anymore."

"_Anymore_? I'd like to know when any of this mattered to you at all."

I glare. "What do you mean? Everything between us mattered. Everything."

"You have a funny way of showing it." He glares back. "The plan only changed when you ended things with me. Otherwise, I would've transferred back for you. So, please don't think I was going to abandon you this whole time."

"I only ended things after you lied to me."

"And I apologized."

"Only after I called you out."

"You _know_ why I didn't tell you, Bella. I'm so sorry—I really am, but I can't keep beating myself up over one mistake. And I wish you'd stop punishing me for it."

"And I," I point toward the driver, "don't really want to talk about this anymore."

"I don't give a shit about him," he says, but his voice has lowered. "Talk to me."

I blow out an annoyed sigh. "About what? You're moving tomorrow, and you decided not to come back. What else is there to cover?"

"I don't know… fuck." He pulls off his beanie and tugs at his hair, turning away from me for a second. "I'm pissed."

"Me too."

"I'm pissed at _you_."

"What?"

"We spent the last few weeks apart and in this awkward limbo. It's fucking bullshit, Bella. I would've never treated you that way if the roles were reversed."

"Well, if the roles were reversed, I would've never lied to you."

"I get it—I fucked up. And you're still pushing me away. So why are you surprised and hurt that I'm not transferring after a year?" He throws his hands in the air, frustrated. "You expected me to come back to Seattle, move into our shitty house, and pine over you while you fucking flirt with your boss? Sorry, not gonna happen. Not anymore."

"I don't know what I thought," I snip back, annoyed at the both of us. "I thought… maybe… I'd go to therapy, and you'd come back in a year, and we'd be good."

He stares back, and it's unnerving how long he holds my gaze. "That's news to me."

I look away. "Yeah, well."

"Please don't try to make me feel guilty."

"I'm not. I'm also not trying to fight with you the night before you fly out."

"We aren't fighting."

"Well, we aren't _happy_."

He blows out an exasperated breath."That was your decision. All of this is your decision, Bella."

"No, it's not. This isn't what I want," I mutter. "Not at all."

"Then change!" he nearly roars.

Tears sting my eyes. "I'm trying."

"No, you're not."

"I am. I'm in therapy. People can't just change overnight, Edward." It's a low blow, but I still say, "Look at Renee."

"People _can_ change, if they want. Renee is choosing not to. _You're_ choosing not to," he huffs then takes a second to collect himself. "Just tell me one thing—if that shit hadn't happened with Kate, and I were only moving to LA for the year, would we still be together?"

I stare at him, at his sad, beautiful face. I want so badly to say yes, of course, we'd still be together. But I don't know if that's honest. Because I probably would've found a way to fuck it up regardless. Instead of admitting that, I say nothing. Because silence is better than lying.

A moment passes, and his gaze falls between us in understanding.

"Look," he says gently. "I can't be your friend anymore. Not after knowing what it's like to be more than that with you."

I bite the inside of my cheek. "What are you saying?"

"We shouldn't talk once I move. I know you said he's your boss, but seeing you talk to someone else who is clearly into you… hurt," he says simply, voice gritty. "It hurt. And I don't really want to have to think about that or hear about it once I'm gone."

Tears burn my eyes. "Okay. So that's it? We'll just pretend we're strangers? I lose you completely?"

"I guess." He sighs, looking completely defeated. "I don't know what else to do, Bella."

Pointing it out doesn't make me feel any better but, "On Thanksgiving, you were the one who said you wanted to be friends."

"I know. I thought I could be your friend again. Turns out, you aren't the only one who needs self-preservation," he murmurs.

I turn away, and we're done talking after that. I can't argue with him for needing space the way I did. And I can't blame him for not wanting to see me again or hear from me. I've given him zero hope for us. It was only a matter of time before he decided he didn't want to wait around.

My own self-preservation kicks in, and I decide maybe he's right. Maybe we can't be friends because it shouldn't be this hard. It used to be easy and fun, and then we fucked it up with emotions and sex. Now, all we're destined for is being strangers who once had feelings until pride got in the way.

XXX

When we pull up to the house, I tip the driver more than I normally would for having to endure the awkward conversation in his back seat. His eyes find mine in the rearview mirror as he mutters a good night.

The house is dark and quiet when we walk in. Edward busies himself with pouring some water from the tap, and I realize the time above the stove reads 12:16 a.m. So when others were celebrating the start of the new year with all the wonder and expectations it brings, Edward and I were in the backseat, arguing.

_Wonderful_.

"Happy New Year," I mutter, slipping out of my shoes and letting them fall on the floor with a _thud_.

Edward's eyes flash to the clock. "Yeah. I guess so."

I linger, maybe in hopes that he'll start up the conversation again, maybe change his mind about the whole _friends_ thing. But he doesn't. Instead he takes his water and disappears into his room, shutting the door behind him.

I do the same, taking off my jacket and tossing it on the floor. When I catch a glimpse of my face in the mirror, my cheeks are red, and my eyes are glassy. I don't look or feel like myself, and nothing about this night feels like _us_.

When I pull open my dresser drawer to change, I find Edward's T-shirt on top. I pick it up, bringing it to my face. It doesn't smell like him anymore, and neither does my bed; they never will again. In mere hours, the house will be completely empty of him. I won't find him drinking coffee at the kitchen table, won't have him down the hall to pester. There will be no more dinners together, no movie marathons. No drunk celebrations or nights out just because.

No best friend. No Edward. Nothing.

Suddenly the reality of everything—him actually leaving and no longer wanting to be friends—truly hits me, and I lose it. I cry so hard, using his shirt to muffle the sounds. My throat feels like it's on fire, and my chest feels so heavy. I sit on my bed, shaking and sniffling, and it seems like this feeling will never end. And yes, maybe I'm feeling fucking sorry for myself. Which I know is stupid because all of this could've been avoided if I just put a little faith into him for once, and put a little faith into myself.

Eventually I have nothing left to cry out. But my heart still hurts, and my head still hurts, and everything hurts.

Before I can overthink, I head down the hallway to his room. I knock on his door twice and listen. When he doesn't respond, I knock again—louder.

Finally it swings open, and I find a shirtless, somewhat annoyed Edward standing in front of me. His annoyance immediately fades when he takes in my tear-stained face and red nose.

"I found this," I say, tossing it at his chest.

He bends down to pick it up off the floor, handing it back gentler than I did. "Keep it."

"I don't… want it." I blink, and anger sinks in. Rose acted like I was the one giving mixed signals, but he's worse at it. "I don't want any of it—your fucking shirt or your car or your parents. Stop giving me all of these things if you don't want me."

"Of course I want you. Jesus. That's all I fucking want."

He crosses the room and slips back into bed, leaving the door open. I'm just standing here, like the old days when we'd talk and flirt, and he'd make invitations about sleeping in his bed. But I never thought he was serious, so I never took him up on them.

I take in his bare room. The shelves and walls are empty—just a lone suitcase sitting in the corner. He's leaving all his furniture to the new guy renting the room. It's so disorienting to imagine someone else living and breathing in this space.

Edward shifts on the mattress, questioning eyes on me. I should walk back down the hall, slide into bed, and pass out. But part of me doesn't want to. Part of me wants to crawl next to him and hold him. I don't know if he'd let me, but I have to ask.

"Edward?" I murmur, voice quiet and questioning. My eyes shift toward his bed, toward him. He must understand because after a moment, all he does is audibly exhale and pull back the blanket just enough for me to know what he's offering.

My features soften, and my chest grows warm at his invitation, even if it was initiated by me.

"Can I—" I pause, not caring if his eyes are still on me as I unzip my dress and pick up the shirt he was wearing tonight, pulling it over my head.

I carefully crawl into his bed, scooting closer and curling my body against his. My stomach flips at the contact. Despite whatever internal war he's having with himself, seconds pass, and his body relaxes. He pulls me closer, tightening his grip around me. My heart soars at how easily he welcomes me back.

"Sorry," I say, but I'm not even sure what I'm apologizing for. "Is this okay?" I ask, desperate for him to say yes as I bury my face against his chest. "I just… want to sleep in the same bed with you on your last night. Okay? That's all. I want to be close to you."

After a moment, I feel him nod.

"Okay."

Our bodies stay tangled, close. And for the tiniest moment before I fall asleep, in his shirt and in his arms, it feels like I'm his. It's the most whole I've felt in over a month.

* * *

**It's still Monday!**

**Woof. Thank you for reading, and Hadley for helping!**


	23. Chapter 23

We sleep in his bed for once.

His alarm sounds too early for how late we were up. He shifts, moving away to turn it off. Then he's behind me again, body pressed against mine. Still lying on my side, I scoot back even closer to him. His chin is resting over my shoulder, but then it's replaced by his mouth. He doesn't kiss, just leaves his mouth there, on the shirt that's covering me. I can feel the warmth of his breath through cotton, and it makes my body warm.

Seconds pass, and he moves like he's gonna leave. I roll over to face him. I don't want him to get up—I don't want to leave this little bubble we have for only a couple more hours.

"Don't," I whisper, eyes still closed, and bury my face in the nook of his shoulder.

"I have to shower," he murmurs, voice thick with sleep.

"No, you don't. You smell fine."

"I smell like beer and whiskey."

He does, but I say, "It's fine."

"I'll be back."

I groan, letting him out of my grasp as he slides out of bed. I crack an eye open and watch him slip out the door before snuggling deeper into his comforter, falling back asleep.

I'm not sure how much time passes, but I blink my eyes open and find Edward sitting next to me against the headboard, hair wet and mug in hand. He's wearing a long-sleeved shirt and a somber smile, and his eyes are on me, like he was already watching. Like he's been waiting for me to wake up. I sit up bleary-eyed, feeling caked-on mascara covering my lashes.

"Morning," I mumble, attempting to smooth down my tangled hair.

His gaze sweeps over me, still in his T-shirt. "How'd you sleep?"

"Better than I have recently." It's not a lie. Memories of being tangled up with him all night fill my mind. He must be thinking about it too because when I watch his face for too long, his eyes leave mine.

"What time is it?" I ask.

"Seven." Dread sinks in when I realize he'll be gone soon. "My parents will be here in an hour or so."

"How are you feeling?" I ask.

He shrugs a little. "I'm… okay. You?"

"Not okay. Are you mad at me?"

"Not mad. Just confused."

I swallow, looking away. "Yeah."

He sips his coffee then scrubs a hand over his mouth.

"What are we gonna do?" I ask, so quietly.

His gaze stays trained on my face. "What do you mean?"

"What are we gonna do about us?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing?" I repeat, face falling.

"Bella." His tone has barely changed, but I detect something there, almost like a warning.

"What?"

"We're talking about this now?"

"Better late than never, right?"

"I don't think so," he says neutrally. "Why did you come in here last night?"

My mind races as fast as my heart, and I know I need to find a way to make this better. "Because… because I miss you. I don't want you to go. And if you do, I want you to come back, and I want to fucking be with you. I do. And fine, okay. I'll trust you. I can trust you, so just… don't stop being my friend and don't leave without being mine again. Please."

I blurt it out so fast, not bothering to take a breath to let what I'm saying sink in. Edward doesn't respond other than lifting his eyebrows into his hairline. A beat passes, and he holds my gaze, calling my bluff.

"You don't want that," he finally whispers. "Please don't say things like that if they're not true."

"It's true," I cry, wiping my cheeks. "I do want all of that. I want you."

He exhales, shaking his head. "Where was this a month and a half ago? Why are you doing this now? Today's gonna be shitty enough as it is… please don't make it harder than it needs to be, Bella. Please."

"I'm not making it harder," I argue. "Isn't saying that I want to be with you making it easier?"

"No, because I know you don't mean it. Last night I told you I don't want to be friends, and suddenly you're healed and want me back? It feels cheap. It doesn't feel like the Bella I know."

"It is me."

"It feels desperate."

"You think I'm desperate," I deadpan, sniffling.

"That's not what I mean. I just think you're scared. If you wanted me again, you had all this time to tell me. To fix it. Yet you didn't, not until I'm an hour away from leaving."

Okay, so it doesn't look great. In fact, when he says it like that, it seems a little manipulative. It doesn't feel deceptive in my heart though. I want him, but he's right. I'm terrified. I'm scared if he walks out of this house, I'll never see him again.

"So the timing sucks," I say.

"The timing is questionable."

I want to ask if he still loves me. I want to know if down the road, whenever I get my shit together, if he could still feel the same way about me, or if I fucked this up too bad. I don't ask him, though, because from the look on his face, I don't think I'd like the answer.

Emotion wells in my chest, and I try so hard to hold back. I don't want him to see me like this—don't want his last memories of me to be desperate and crying in his shirt.

"I fucking hate this," I murmur, a few tears slipping out.

"Bella."

"What?"

"Please stop crying," he begs. "It kills me. I hate seeing you like this."

"Sorry." I catch my breath, wiping my face with his shirt, watching as black stains appear on white cotton.

"Don't be sorry, just… fuck."

"No, I really am," I sniffle, staring at his face. "I'm sorry for everything. For not trusting you, for pushing you away. I'm sorry I'm not better. You didn't deserve this broken version of me. You didn't deserve any of it. So, yeah, I'm sorry," I mumble, fully knowing these were things I should've apologized for months ago.

He exhales, setting his mug on the floor and reaching for my hand. "Come here." I let him guide me over, so I'm nestled between his arms and chest, my head tucked under his chin. He's so warm and good, and I don't want him to leave. "You just said everything I've wanted to hear," he murmurs. "But I need you to mean it."

"I do mean it."

I feel his chest rise and fall. "I can't go to LA and have you get pissed at me in a month and break it off again. I can't do this back and forth shit. It's not healthy for us. It's not… normal."

"I'll never be normal. Or perfect," I point out, sniffling. "You know that, right?"

"I know. And I loved you despite your imperfections. That's not what this is about."

"You're not perfect either."

"I'm not saying I am," he agrees. "But I never doubted us. Not once. And that's all I needed from you... to trust me. Even when we were at our best, I could see it in your eyes that you weren't all in. It killed me. But I was willing not to push it because... I was scared."

"I wanted to be all in. I did," I cry, burying my face against his chest. "I still love you. I know it doesn't change anything between us, but I do. Even when I was pissed and didn't trust you... I always loved you."

"I love you, too," he says, after a beat. "Which is why I can't be with you. Not like this, not right now."

I know what he's saying is true, and that's why it hurts so bad. Because what did I really expect? For him to suddenly agree to be with me—after everything—and have a healthy long-distance relationship? Not even I'm that naive. Not really.

And fuck me, I know everyone has given little bits of advice here and there, trying to guide me in the right direction. It's as if I needed a catalyst—like him actually leaving—for it to ignite something in me. For it to nudge me toward actually trying to change. I hate to admit it, but it's true.

"You need to work through some stuff," he says gently, not at all judgmental. "A lot of stuff. For yourself, not for me." He hesitates. "Or for your next relationship, if that's something you want."

"Don't say that," I scoff. "There's no one else, Edward."

"You don't know what could happen," he whispers. "But if you move on… or I move on… we have to be okay with that."

Even though he can't see me, I glare. I hate that my issues have brought us here, to a point where Edward's even mentioning the idea of moving on. But if I'm being honest, I can't be mad. I should've anticipated this. I can't expect him to wait for me forever, especially when neither of us had talked about the future until last night.

"I get it. I do. It just… fucking sucks."

We fall into silence, just lying with each other until he says, "I'm sorry I yelled at you last night. About not trying. I was just upset." He clears his throat. "I know you're going to therapy, and you're doing that for the both of us. It was a shitty thing for me to say."

I appreciate his apology but still say, "You had every right."

"No, I didn't. It was a dick move, and I'm sorry." With my arm around his stomach, I hold him a little tighter. "I think some time apart will be good. Get your head straight. Me too. And once you feel ready, then…"

"Then what?"

"Then we'll go from there."

"How will I know?" I swallow, sniffling.

"I'm not sure. That's for you to figure out, I guess."

My heart hurts but not nearly as bad as before because I recognize that this is not a goodbye. It's not. Maybe we won't be friends for a while, but it's not a forever kind of thing. There's a huge chance we'll never be together again romantically. I know the outcome relies heavily on me. But he's giving me hope, the tiniest bit, and I'll gladly take it.

I shift, so I can look at him. With my chin on his chest, I memorize the lines on his face, his jaw. The sincerity in his eyes, the way his brows are knit together in concern. I think he's doing the same as his gaze trails over me. I love this man; I know I do, even if my way of loving isn't conventional. Even if my way of accepting love is toxic. Now I just need to figure out a way to put myself together again, to make myself feel whole without him being in the equation.

Ultimately I know he—and everyone else—has been right. I need to figure out my shit. I've needed to do that for a while, but I've put it off and pushed away the pain because not feeling felt better than immersing myself in it. I need to learn to trust and love myself first before I can love and trust anyone else. Before I can rely on anyone else.

With these thoughts, my eyes well again, and I blink the tears away. "I should let you go," I say, sitting up.

His own eyes begin to fill, and it's awful to see. "Yeah."

"I'm gonna miss you," I mumble to his blurred face.

He cups my face with both hands, thumbs brushing my tears. "Me too, Bell."

I stand from the bed, using the back of my hand to wipe under my eyes. He stands too and lingers near me, goodbye imminent. I turn to him, and he grabs my waist, pulling me against him. I reach up and wrap my arms around his neck. We hold each other for a moment, but it feels like forever. I cry; he does too. I don't want to let go, and I definitely won't be the first to break this. But then his grip loosens, and I have to loosen mine too. We're still so close, but I can't look at his face, so I stare at his chest until he says my name. I lift my chin a little, and he dips his head, pressing a small, chaste kiss to my lips. With our wet cheeks pressed against each other, I kiss him back. We stay that way, in a sad embrace, until I'm the one who has to break it because I'm crying too hard.

"Fuck," I breathe out. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry."

"It's just hard."

He licks his lips, nose red from crying. "I know."

"Don't come find me before you leave. I can't do this again."

He nods. "Okay."

I caress his chest, my fingers curling around the fabric of his shirt before letting go. I somehow find the strength to walk down the hall to my own room. I somehow find the strength to let him go, when everything in my mind screams to do the opposite.

* * *

**Y'all still with me? It only goes up from here, people, I PROMISE. Next update will be Wednesday.  
****  
In the meantime, y'all should check out 2 of the fics I'm currently crushing on:  
Body of Christ by Belladonna and TheFictionFreak  
White Noise by Hotteaforme**

**Thank you for reading! And to Hadley for everything!**

**P.S. this chapter was the shot, and the next chapter of This Thing Called Love is the chaser. Don't say I never looked out for y'all! lolol**


	24. Chapter 24

I sleep in Edward's bed for three days after he leaves.

It smells like him for the first two nights, but then the scent disappears, and my heart hurts all over again. Maybe it's pathetic. Depressing. Sleeping in his bed doesn't make me feel better, but I want to feel close to him, even if only for a little while longer.

I replay the conversation we had the morning he left over and over again. My tears turn bitter when I realize he might've lied for a second time. He said he never doubted us, but that wasn't true, was it? If he didn't doubt us, then he would've told me about what happened with Kate; he would've trusted us enough to know we'd get through it, yet he didn't.

But maybe it wasn't _us_ that he doubted. Maybe it was just me.

One thing I find that does make me feel a bit better is drafting emails to him, without the intention of sending them.

They start off angry. It's irrational, but I'm mad he left. I knew it was coming—I had months to prepare—but having him actually leaving hurts. I accuse him of lying, accuse him of doubting us. I ask how the hell I'm not supposed to be skeptical when he could barely do the same? Just because he's better than me at hiding his apprehension, doesn't make him right or healthy or whole. At least I wasn't the one who fucking left. At least I wasn't the one who hurt him.

But I did, didn't I? God, I hurt him. I hurt us both—and for what?

It isn't until my third email that I start to feel remorse.

I tell him I'm so fucking sorry. That I should've started this journey of sorting through my trauma years ago because maybe then I'd know how to be in a healthy relationship, and we could have avoided this separation. I write that he's the first person I've ever let myself love. Maybe it's because he has a way with me, maybe because he's patient. No one else really stuck around long enough to break down my walls, ultimately making me feel like I wasn't worth it. But he did, and I've never let anyone in that way before, ever. Not Charlie, not Renee, not any other friends—and he should know that. I tell him he was the best friend and lover and that I know how rare that combination is. If I ever get him back, I'll tell him every day. Because he deserves that—he deserves everything.

XXX

By the end of the third day, Emmett finally checks in on me.

"Okay. Enough of this shit," he says sternly, standing in Edward's doorway. "We got a new guy moving in next week, and I doubt he'll wanna live here with you stinkin' up the place."

If I weren't so offended, I'd appreciate his candor.

"I don't smell," I snip. But maybe I do. I've showered, but I haven't washed my hair, and I might still be wearing the shirt Edward wore on New Year's—the one I slept in. I glance around the room, noting the dirty plates and bowls stacked up on the floor, along with half-consumed mugs of tea. A bottle of wine. Bags of Pirate's Booty. I could never be one of those people who stops eating when they're upset. If anything, I eat _more_. But I'm getting off-track, and Em's right, even if he hasn't said it outright—it's a little depressing in here.

He snaps his fingers. "Bella?"

"What?"

"Buck up, Buttercup."

"Go away, Emmett." I find a used tissue in the bed and blow my nose.

"Gross."

I ball it up and throw it at him and miss. "Seriously. I'm not in the mood."

He sighs and walks across the room to sit at the foot of the bed. "I don't give a crap if you're not in the mood. You need to get it together."

"I know, that's what I'm doing. I'm _trying_."

"No, you're not." He gives me a very pointed look, one that lets me know he does not believe me whatsoever.

"Yes, I am," I argue. "This is me trying." I thrust my phone in his face, showing him all the unsent drafts I've written to Edward. "I'm working through shit. See? Admitting I know I fucked up is step one. Or whatever."

His eyes scan the phone, maybe reading bits and pieces of what I've written. "Sure, okay. It's easy to say sorry. But why are you apologizing? Why did you end it?"

"Because… because I didn't trust him."

"Why not?"

I chew on my lip. "Because he lied?"

"I want the real reason. His lying was just an excuse, and you know it."

"I just—" I cover my face with Edward's pillow.

Em pulls it off, tossing it on the floor. "Wanna know what I think?"

"Not really."

"You knew he was leaving," he says anyway. "But that didn't mean he was leaving _you_, ya freak."

"Gee, thanks."

"Well, what? You're an idiot, but we all still love ya. You probably thought if you left him first, in a way, that it wouldn't feel like you were being abandoned. Am I right, or am I right?"

"You're…" _Right._ Fuck. It's true. Because of Renee I've always felt second-best, always felt like anyone I loved would eventually leave me. Despite things being so fucking good with Edward during those first few months, him accepting the job in LA threw me off kilter. That doesn't mean if he stayed in Seattle everything would've been perfect. Things could've still gone sideways with us. Regardless, his moving was a test, and I fucking failed.

"Say it, Bella. Out loud," Emmett prompts. "I'm _what_…?"

It takes a lot for me, but I say, "You're right."

His smile is triumphant. "Good. Now that that's out of the way, you can start trying to fix the shit you broke."

"Hold up," I say. "Where were you with this insight months ago?"

"I dunno. I got my own shit to work on. I also thought you'd figure it out. But you can't keep dwelling on the bad stuff," he says, pulling a piece of paper out of his pocket. "Now for part two."

"What is that?" I ask, leaning over to see for myself. He pulls it away, lifting an arm in the air, out of my reach.

"I made notes so I wouldn't forget what I need to address with you."

I almost laugh. "Who are you, and what have you done with Emmett?"

"Don't change the subject," he says, somewhat amused. "Pretend Edward didn't lie or whatever. What if he went to LA, and you two actually stayed together, and nothing bad happened. What if everything with him turned out to be… fine?" he says, raising his eyebrows ominously. "What then?"

"I don't know."

"Try giving me a real answer."

I think about it; _really_ think about it. I picture us being fine for the first couple of months, but then imagine him working late… forgetting to call. Cancelling weekend plans to Seattle because he has to finish a big project. Eventually he's so busy and I'm so resentful, I break up with him after a nasty fight instead of voicing why I'm hurt.

"Fine. If we stayed together and he still moved, I'd probably do something to fuck it up. Chaos is kinda what I'm used to." I glare. "Are you happy now?"

"Right. Okay. But now that you recognize that, can you try _not_ fucking it up in the future?

"Sure, but I don't even know if Edward will want to be with me again. I finally pushed him far enough away, and now he's gone. And… if he doesn't wait, well. Can I blame him?"

Emmett actually laughs. "Edward isn't going anywhere."

"Spoiler alert: he moved to LA. He went somewhere."

"You know what I mean. If you showed up on his doorstep tomorrow, he would be ecstatic."

"Doubtful. I tried getting back with him the morning he left, and he shut it down."

"Even you're not that stupid," he says. "That reeks of manipulation, and you know it."

"I was sad, Emmett."

"Or desperate."

I refrain from flipping him off. "Okay, so say we got back together. How do I know I won't eventually fuck it up again? How do I know he won't lie?"

"You don't know. No one does," he replies easily. "No one has all the answers. You just gotta go for it. Yes, he lied. And yes, that was shitty. But… it sounds to me like he only did that because he loves you."

I groan loudly. "I hate that, though. I hate being told someone did something that hurt me out of _love_. It's not fair."

"_Life_ isn't fair."

"Isn't that cliched?"

"Sure, but it's true."

"So my mom leaving me was in my best interest? She hurt me because she loves me so much, and I'm supposed to just accept that?"

"Dude."

"What?"

"Edward and your mom are _completely_ different people." He says it so simply that I feel stupid for not realizing it myself. "You can't compare what happened with her to what happened with him. That's your first problem. I'm not saying your mom doesn't love you, but… I also can't defend how she's treated you. I can defend Edward, though."

"Of course you're defending him—he's your friend."

"You were my friend first," he reminds me. "And I know about all the shitty things your mom did. Have you told him any of it?"

I pick at the skin around my thumbnail. "Some."

"Maybe if you were more open about all of that, he'd understand a little more."

I appreciate Emmett so much at this moment. And it's weird, after so many heart-to-hearts with people about this exact problem, none of their advice struck a chord with me the way Emmett's does. I'm grateful for this new perspective, recognizing that I might've rejected Edward before he could potentially reject me. I'm definitely gonna explore that more with Emily this week.

As much as Em's words resonate, that doesn't mean I can't still give him shit.

"Where did you get all this insight from? Are you high?"

He has to think about this for a second. "No. In fact, I haven't really smoked in a while. Haven't wanted to."

This is news to me. "What?"

He shrugs. "I dunno. Being with Rose feels good. Not saying I don't smoke every now and then, but I have different priorities. No more waking and baking. No more billow then pillow."

"No more Sativa Sunrise?" I ask, gaping. Don't be fooled—it actually took place at noon.

"Nah."

"Oh, my God," I mutter, dropping my head in my hands.

"What?"

Lifting my head, I give him a look. "The fuck is this? Emmett McCarty has his life together, and I don't?"

His face brightens. "Holy shit. You're right."

At this realization, laughter bubbles out of me. Em laughs along with me, boisterous and the slightest bit infectious which keeps the moment going until I have tears in my eyes. When our laughter eventually dies down and I feel the tiniest bit lighter.

"You think Edward completely hates me?" I ask quietly.

"Nah. He wouldn't leave you this if he hated you." Emmett pulls a folded envelope out of his back pocket.

"What's this?"

"Part three."

I shove his chest in surprise."Emmett! Why didn't you give this to me days ago?"

He holds it out but doesn't let go when I tug on it. "Because I was given strict instructions to tell you not to open it until you're ready."

"What?"

"Seriously. I'm gonna need you to swear on it, freak. Don't open it until you're ready."

"Ready for what?"

"I didn't ask questions. That's just what I was told."

I groan, curiosity thoroughly piqued. But I agree and grab the envelope. I stare at Edward's scrawl, fingers tracing over my name on the front.

"So?" he prompts. "What are you gonna do?"

"Other than _not _open this right the fuck now?"

"Yes."

My mind races a hundred miles a minute. I think of Edward, already in LA, living his life, moving on. It bums me out, but I know it's for the best. Right here and now, I tell myself I won't reach out to him until I'm sure. I won't text or call or stalk him on social media until I feel healthy and whole. Because the last thing I want to do is seek him out prematurely, and fuck things up all over again. The last thing I want is to lose any chance I have at getting him back. I refuse to let myself completely lose the best thing, the best friend, the best love of my life. But if that has already happened, I also need to accept that.

"I'm gonna get my shit together," I say carefully. "_Really_ get it together. No more excuses. And hopefully, eventually… I'll get Edward back."

Em gently bumps my shoulder with his fist. "Atta girl. Can you shower, first? It fucking reeks in here."

* * *

**Next update will be Friday or Saturday! My nerves with this story are starting to ease up, so thank y'all for that! Appreciate all the love. :')  
**

**Hadley is the best support!**


	25. Chapter 25

Thoughts of Edward don't fade away easily.

I see the unopened envelope on my dresser and think of Edward. I drive around in his old car and think of Edward. I eat and barely sleep and feel half alive, and I think of Edward.

Work is a nice distraction, but I can tell my focus is off. I miss a deadline on top of forgetting to reply to a few customer inquiries on an Instagram post. When Ben calls me into his office to ask what's up, it's clear he's being too nice. I don't make any excuses for my slacking and take full responsibility for my screw up, promising him I'll get it together.

When the evening nears, Leah, the girl who took over for me as the receptionist, suggests a group of us head to happy hour. My instinct is to say no, but I stop myself. Spending another evening at home holed up from everyone doesn't necessarily sound appealing. I hold off, but when I hear that Ben isn't going, I tell her yes.

It's nice being out for a little bit, if only to keep my mind away from Edward. Of course, my thoughts don't stray from him for too long but giving myself a little break feels good. I tell myself I'll only stay for an hour, and I stick to that. It's only as I'm leaving that I bump into Ben, who decided to join everyone a little late.

"Hey! You're leaving?" His look of disappointment does not go unnoticed.

I pull my hair over my shoulder, nodding. "Yeah. Kinda tired. You can have my seat, though," I say, pointing toward our table.

"You sure I can't interest you in one drink?" he asks, hopeful.

My thoughts travel back to New Year's, when I made things much worse between Edward and me by having one drink with Ben.

"I'm sure," I tell him. "I'm good."

He lingers. "Can we talk for a second? Alone?"

My heart speeds up. Everyone at the table is lost in conversation, not really paying attention to us. I'm not sure what he would need to say to me in private, but I go against my instinct and say, "Sure."

With a nod, he ushers me over until we're standing alone near the bathrooms. With a clearing of his throat, he stalls. I wait for him to take the floor.

"Is everything okay?" he questions.

I keep my face neutral. "Yeah, why?"

"You seem off."

"I know, I know. And I promise, I'll get my shit together at work, I just—"

"I'm not asking as your boss; I'm asking as your friend," he says gently, voice lowering. "I know we talked earlier, about missing some deadlines, but I'm not referencing that. I'm talking about you. Personally."

"Oh." I feel my face heat a little, but the hallway is dim, and I hope he can't tell. I don't really want to tell him about Edward because it feels too personal. But maybe if I'm a little honest, he'll step off. "Edward, my ex-boyfriend, moved a week ago."

"Right. To LA."

"I'm just bummed about that. I miss him."

"I see." He pauses, watching my face a little too closely as he gestures between our bodies. "Am I off on the vibe here?"

"What vibe?"

The corner of his mouth tugs to one side. "That there might be something more between us?"

God, I fucking hate this. The confrontation, the one-sided feeling that's clearly happening here. Edward was right. I mean, I kind of already knew that after my interaction with Ben on New Year's Eve. But part of me hoped whatever attraction he held for me would just disappear on its own, and I wouldn't have to address anything.

But that's what the old Bella would do. I wouldn't outright say anything to Ben to let him down. I'd avoid the elephant in the room to lessen the blow and keep the peace. I'd go out with him, maybe let him fuck me, then tell him it's not him, it's me. Eventually he'd lose interest, and I'd be off the hook. That won't do me any good, though. That behavior only leaves me feeling more alone than before. So, I decide I need to be honest.

"Yes," I say after a moment.

Ben's face is unreadable. "Yes, I'm picking up the wrong signals? Or yes, you're into me?"

"Is this even… appropriate?" I ask, kind of laughing. There's zero humor behind it though.

"I'm sorry. I'm not trying to make you feel uncomfortable," he states, stepping back a bit.

"Well, I am uncomfortable." I clear my throat. "I really like my job, but is this one of those things where if I don't go out with you, you're gonna fire me or—"

His eyes grow wide, like he wasn't expecting me to be so straight-forward. "Shit. No, Bella. I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to make it weird like that. Of course I wouldn't do that."

"Okay. Then yes, you're picking up the wrong signals. I'm still in love with Edward," I say honestly. "And even if I wasn't… I don't think anything happening between us would be good."

He nods, running a hand along his jaw. "I get it. And I appreciate the honesty. I'm sorry if I was trying a little too hard. I really thought…" Hesitating, he leaves the floor open for me. When I don't say anything, he nods. "Well. It doesn't matter what I thought. I was wrong."

"This isn't going to make things weird between us at work, is it?"

"Not in the least," he promises. "Again, I'm sorry."

"It's fine."

His smile is friendly, relieved. "Okay. I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Sounds good."

He steps aside, motioning for me to head out before him. So I do, and I keep walking toward the exit, not even bothering to look back.

XXX

When the weekend rolls around, I head to Forks to celebrate a belated Christmas with Charlie. When I pull up, there's a car I've never seen before in the driveway. I briefly wonder if Charlie's seeing someone, but if he is, I haven't heard a single thing.

Curiosity nags at me as I walk inside, the door already unlocked.

"Dad?" I call out, sticking his gifts under the tree before shrugging out of my coat.

"Back here!" Charlie yells out from the kitchen.

"God, it's freaking cold out there, I almost—"

When I round the corner, I find Renee sitting at the table, and Charlie across from her. She doesn't say anything, just smiles somberly. My eyes bounce between the two of them, noting how Charlie's forehead creases with worry and maybe a little guilt, too.

"What's going on? What are you doing here?" I ask accusingly.

"I wanted to spend the holiday with y'all," she says gingerly, and I scrutinize her for a moment. She's not wearing any makeup, her hair is pulled back in a low bun, and she looks… defeated. Her gaze isn't distant, so it's easy to tell she's sober for once. She looks sad. She looks earnest. She looks the perfect part for someone who's trying to make amends for the third time in their life. But I'm not falling for it this time.

I cross my arms over my chest and ask, "What happened to Florida?"

"I was there for a bit. But it didn't work out."

"So you decided to come crawling back to Charlie?" I blurt, fully angry—for him, for me. "Dad, you're not just gonna let her do this, are you?"

Charlie stands from the table, stepping closer to me. "Bella, calm down. Nothing is happening. I thought it would be nice for us to spend some time together. That's all."

"Bullshit. She's trying to worm her way back into our lives, so she can fuck them up again. And I'm not gonna let that happen."

"That's not what I'm trying to do," she replies, voice carefully neutral. "I honestly just wanted to see you. I called—"

"No you didn't."

She bristles at my tone. "Well, I wanted to."

The room is silent, like they're waiting for me to take the floor. Like they're waiting for me to give her my blessing, and let her stay.

"I can't do this," I say, looking at Charlie. "I don't want her here."

"Bells—"

"No. If she's staying, then I'm leaving."

"You haven't heard her out," Charlie says sternly.

"I don't want to hear her out," I snap, and I wonder how it would feel to have people talking about me as if I'm not in the same room as them. Wonder if it's actually as demoralizing as she makes it look. "We've let her get away with this for too fucking long, and I've had enough." My throat constricts as I try to keep myself from crying.

"It's fine," she murmurs, looking at Charlie. "I'll go."

He looks over at her, shaking his head. "Renee, no. If Bella doesn't want to have a conversation like an adult then… she's free to leave."

"Are you actually kidding me right now, Dad?" I balk, emotion rising in my chest. "Tell me, when has Renee ever acted like an adult? She runs from all her responsibilities. She mooches off people, and now that she's finally run out of people to rely on, she's back. How can you not see that?" Charlie doesn't answer because he knows I'm right. "You're supposed to be on my side, not hers. She fucking left you. She'll do it again."

"Baby, I am on your side," Charlie insists. "I just want all of us to talk. I don't want us to avoid this forever; it's not healthy. I think we owe it to her to hear her out."

"I don't owe her anything! I've fucking tried!" I yell, letting tears stream down my cheeks. "I've tried with her for years, and I got nothing in return. She doesn't want us, and she doesn't love us. So why would I believe her now? Why am I gonna let this be on her terms, huh? Tell me—why?"

After I say it all, it's like the air gets sucked out of the room. I just stand here, crying into my hands, feeling incredibly raw and vulnerable. Charlie quiets down, maybe not realizing just how miserable this situation has made me. Renee just stares at me in stunned silence, finally recognizing the trauma she created.

I know I'm just as guilty as they are for allowing this to happen. How would they know the pain I'm in, if I've never told them? I deflect with humor and keep everyone at arm's length so they don't see the real me. I push everything down until I can't feel and then put on a brave face. But I don't want to be brave anymore. I want to accept the pain, and I want to own it. I at least owe that much to myself. But Renee? I don't owe her anything.

"Bella," she says softly.

"No. Don't." I shake my head. "You can stay. Pretend to be a happy little family, I don't care. But I refuse to be a part of it."

"Please don't go," Renee begs, but I'm already heading down the hallway. She follows after me, watching as I pull on my coat and scramble for my keys. "I don't want to come between you and Charlie. I really don't."

"Don't give yourself so much credit," I mutter darkly. "Dad and I will be fine. I just refuse to stick around and watch you do this again."

"Okay. I get it. You hate me," she says pitifully. "Trust me, I would've fucked you up even more if I stuck around."

I reach for the door, pausing before I open it. "That wasn't your decision to make alone ," I say, turning to look at her square in the eyes.

"Wasn't it, though?"

"It was selfish, and you know it."

I feel Charlie's presence before I see him lingering in the hallway, watching us carefully.

"You're right. I was selfish. And I'm trying to own that. But you're not letting me."

"How does it feel?" I ask quietly. "To reach out to someone you care about, only to have them completely disregard you?"

She opens her mouth, but nothing comes out. And really, there isn't anything left to say. I glance over at Charlie, silently regarding him for a moment before walking out the door, letting it slam behind me.

XXX

When I leave Charlie's, I have to pull over on the side of the road because I'm crying so hard, I can barely drive. Maybe leaving was a little dramatic, but I don't care. Staying would only show Renee that her actions and decisions all these years were justified, and I refuse to give her that approval anymore.

With the car in park, I cry harder than I ever have before. I cry for the relationship that never was with a woman who never cared for me. I cry for Charlie and the pain he must feel, even though he seems to have put on a brave face, probably for my sake. I cry for my failed relationship with Edward and for not seeing that he's the only person, besides Emmett, who truly cares for me and has my best interest in mind.

I cry, and I curse myself for being so stupid, so guarded, so incredibly skeptical all these years. What did it really do for me? It didn't stop me from getting hurt because I'm hurting. It didn't help me to have it all because I'm left with absolutely nothing.

But even so, when my tears finally subside, I find myself feeling lighter somehow. Like saying all of those things to Renee was cathartic. I'd held back for so many years, avoiding the potential confrontation, thinking I was better off just sucking it up. Which in turn made me bitter, resentful, and deeply hurt. I never thought that allowing myself to be immersed in that pain would somehow be healing. But I was just proved so, so wrong. For once, I'm okay with that.

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**Thanks for sticking with me. IT MEANS SO MUUUCH. Next update is Tuesday.  
**

**Hadley... you know. :)  
**


	26. Chapter 26

**Jo & Belladonna - this one's for you. Matthew 7:7 - ask, and it will be given to you. LOL yes, I had to google that bible verse. But y'all, Body of Christ updated today. GO READ IT.  
**

* * *

**Three Months Later**

"How are you today?" Emily asks.

I really think about this, instead of answering right off the bat. "I'm… okay. Feeling a little discouraged, but… some days are better than others."

"Is there anything you wanted to address today, or would you like me to take the floor?"

"I'll let you start off, and if anything comes up, I'll chime in."

Her smile is friendly. "Okay. Did you listen to the guided meditation I sent you last week?"

"I tried. It's hard." I wring my hands together.

"Hard how?"

"My mind wanders a lot. I don't know if I'm really getting anything out of it yet."

She nods. "It takes practice, for sure. Your mind will wander. That's natural. When that happens, just acknowledge it and jump back in."

I take a deep breath. "I started doing yoga again."

"Without the added distractions?" she asks lightly, smiling.

"Right. I didn't listen to any podcasts or watch TV while doing the practice. Even though multi-tasking is so tempting."

Her laugh is light. "I know. Everyone's always go, go, go. Our days are filled with ways to get as much done as you can in as little time possible. But you need to slow down, allow yourself time to recharge and really reflect on what you're working towards."

"I know." I stare down at my hands. "I saw my dad a few days ago."

"How did that go?"

"It was okay. He tried talking to me about Renee, but I'm not ready."

"Why not?"

"Because it feels too… hard? I told him I didn't want to talk about her, but then he told me that she rented a place in town, in Forks. I just—" I blow out a breath. "I hate that he didn't respect my boundaries. It's fucked-up."

"I can see why that would hurt you. Did you express that to him?"

"Yes. And he was apologetic but… I don't know."

"Has Renee contacted you or vice versa?"

"No. I haven't seen or heard from her since that one day in Forks." _When I was blindsided_.

"I see."

"So at least _she's_ respecting my boundaries. But then again, I mean… she disappears from time to time. That doesn't necessarily mean she's allowing me space."

"But she didn't necessarily disappear this time, right?" Emily points out. "Why do you think she decided to stay in town?"

"I have no fucking idea. But I'm skeptical. Either she's trying to get back with Charlie, which would kill me, or… I don't know."

"Do you feel like you should have a say in what happens to them? They are adults and can make their own decisions, just like you."

The idea makes my stomach lurch. "Maybe I don't really have a say, but it would be unimaginable. There's zero way she wouldn't fuck it all up again. We deserve better than that."

"And what does she deserve?" I shake my head, unwilling to answer. "Take your time."

"My instinct is to say _nothing_. Renee deserves nothing, but I doubt that's what I'm supposed to say."

"You can say anything you'd like. This is a safe space." Emily regards me for a moment. "So you haven't seen her for three months."

"Right. Since January."

"Do you expect her to leave soon?"

"Yes. Of course. Give it another few months, maybe when summer hits, and she'll be gone."

"What could she do—if anything—to potentially make you believe her, to trust her again?"

"I don't know," I say quietly. "I don't know what that would look like."

Emily nods, keeping her expression neutral. "Maybe this week you can write her a letter. Tell her what you want from her, what you need. Be honest, and don't hold back."

"She's not gonna care," I say flatly. "I doubt she would read it."

"It's not for her, though. It's for you. You aren't going to send it, but maybe writing out how you feel will help you take a step back from your trauma, giving you a different perspective."

"Okay. So I just write her a letter and then what?"

Emily shrugs. "You can read it here, or you can throw it away. I wouldn't worry so much about what you're going to do with it. It's mostly to help you heal."

"All right." I breathe deeply. "I kinda did that once before. With Edward. I wrote a lot of emails to him after he left, but I didn't send them."

"Did you feel like it helped?"

"I think so. I mean, I wish I would've sent them, but I know he doesn't want to talk to me."

"Have you tried reaching out?"

"No. I'm too scared. We haven't talked or seen each other since the day he left. At this point, he's probably forgotten all about me."

"Do you actually believe that?"

"No. I'm just scared of that, maybe. I'm worried enough time is going to pass, and I'm still going to be fucked up and untrusting, and he's going to move on."

"He might," Emily says gently. "You could move on, too, though."

My eyes burn, and I self-consciously brush them away. "I don't want that."

"Isn't that why you're here? To work on moving on?"

"Not to move on from _him_. To… to move forward and not hold onto the things that aren't serving me," I say, and Emily smiles lightly, like she approves of this answer.

"Would you be upset if he moved on?"

"Yes," I say without thinking.

"Don't you want him to be happy?"

"Why can't he be happy with me?"

"Are you happy with yourself?"

I hesitate. "I'm getting there."

"I'm not saying he can't be happy with you, Bella. But I think, from what you've told me, you both needed time apart."

"We did. We do. I still care about him, though. And I do want to be with him." Reaching for a tissue on the table next to me, I dab my eyes. "Time heals all wounds, or whatever the fuck, but I feel like… I don't know. Time is not on my side."

"I don't necessarily agree with that saying," Emily offers. "I think something that's more helpful to hear is what we do during that elusive _time_ is what helps us heal. Saying time heals all wounds doesn't hold us accountable for putting in the work because we then expect everything to happen on its own."

"I hadn't thought about it like that before."

"That's what I'm here for." Her lips press into a small smile. "You should really give yourself more credit—you're working through things and learning to heal. You come here every week, setting aside time for yourself. Not everyone can do that. I've already seen a shift in you in just the last three months. Don't give up now."

"Okay." I nod, fisting my tissue into a small ball. "I won't."

XXX

Since my therapy session ended around one, I call out of work for the remainder of the day. Sometimes I feel energized and ready to take on anything after my appointment. Today I just feel emotionally drained.

I take an hour nap when I get home, then make something easy for dinner. I spend the rest of the evening in my room, looking at apartments on Craigslist. After Emmett told me he's moving out at the end of the month to live with Rose, I decided it's probably time for me to go, too.

I'm scrolling through different one bedroom apartments and studios, and a dull ache begins to fill my chest. Maybe it's because I'm reminded of the time I spent in my bed, with Edward, while he was looking for new places to live. Maybe I'm still emotionally compromised after my therapy session today. Whatever it is, it's such an overwhelmingly numb feeling. I shut my laptop, forcing myself to clear my mind and focus on something else. I breathe as deeply as I can, but before I know it, I resort to the only thing I've tried so hard not to do during this process—reaching out to Edward.

_Hey. I know you don't want to talk, but… I miss you. And really, you don't have to reply to this. I just wanted to say hi, and I hope your new gig is going well. Emmett said you were in town last week for your dad's birthday. I hope you understand why I didn't go - it's probably the same reason why you didn't stop by to see me. I still have the envelope Emmett gave me after you left… it's hard not to open it, but I'm still not ready. I really, really hope to be soon. And I really hope you'll still be there, waiting? Maybe? If not… I get it. Anyway… yeah. Take care of yourself, I'm trying to do the same. xx_

Before I can stop myself, I send the email. If he doesn't reply, I can't really be surprised—he expressed he didn't want to talk or be friends. I know I'm not respecting that boundary he requested but… I'm human. It's been way too long since I've talked to him. Maybe I'm being weak, slipping up, but I'm not upset with myself over it.

When he finally replies a week later, I read the beginning of the email, hating how standoffish he sounds. As if we were mere acquaintances and never shared deep feelings for one another. But as I read on, he softens a little—a _lot_—and my heart feels more hopeful than before.

_Hey, Bell. Sorry for the delayed response—I wasn't trying to purposely avoid you. LA's been good, work has been insane. But I love it. Hope everything is going well with you, with work and whatnot. Dad's 60th birthday was pretty fun, but I hate to admit part of me hoped you'd be there. I was tempted to stop by the house to see you, and I might've borrowed my mom's car to drive by a few times, but… if that seems too creepy, pretend I didn't just admit that. Anyway… I miss you, too. Every day. Fuck, this is the fifth time I've rewritten this, which is why it's taken me so long to reply. I'm trying to keep a distance, or whatever, but it's hard to do when it comes to you. I want to know what you're doing, and how you're REALLY doing. I want to hear about your day, and how things have been with Renee. Are you still doing your weird (but incredibly cute and quirky) restaurant reviews? I tried stalking you on Instagram but haven't seen you post much. It's killing me to not know what you're doing. The selfish part of me hopes not knowing what I'm doing kills you, too… only because that means you still care. Okay, I should end this now. I still think about you, and I'm glad you reached out. If you wanted to do it again, text me or call or whatever—I would be okay with that. And yes… I'm still waiting._

I've thought a lot over these last few months and have worked through so many emotions. The pessimistic side of me endured negative thoughts, convincing myself Edward would move on. That he'd go and fuck the first girl he met to get me out of his system. I thought about that so much, to the point where _I_ almost did it, out of spite. I didn't though because imagining being with someone like that was enough to make me sick.

It's been hard not hearing from him but getting this heartfelt reply reminds me what the end goal is. He's not the manipulative asshole my vulnerable and sabotaging brain makes him out to be sometimes. He's kind and loyal and compassionate. But above all of that, he proved he's patient. And he's still waiting.

It's exactly what I needed to hear.

* * *

**Slowly but surely.**

**Also, I love you guys. Thanks for reading.**

**Any mistakes are mine - the good parts are all Hadley. :)**


	27. Chapter 27

"I can't believe you're leaving me."

"It had to happen sooner or later," Emmett says, smiling. "We're just down the street though, so don't think you're completely free of my antics. I've pestered you for twelve years." A look of pride morphs onto his face. "Can't stop, won't stop."

I snort a laugh but push down the emotion that wells in my chest.

"Is that the last of it?" Rose asks, walking out of the house. She's got a small box propped on her hip, shielding her eyes with her other hand. The sun decided to show up today, which I'm grateful for. If it were moody and gray, I don't think I'd be able to cope as well.

Em takes the box from her and heads over to the U-Haul.

"God, it's gonna be so weird without y'all," I mumble, looking between them.

Rose smiles gently. "You move soon, right?"

I nod. "In a week. There's a one-bedroom like, ten minutes from work. It's not much, but there's a washer and dryer in the unit which is honestly a dream. Of course it costs a fucking arm and a leg, but anything in the city does."

"Tell me about it," Rose sighs. "That's wonderful, though. Everyone else in the house is staying put?"

"I'm pretty sure Alice is going to live in the basement forever. And Jasper just moved in a few months ago, so yeah. He's staying, too."

"They're totally boning by the way," Emmett says, grinning as he walks back over.

"Why do you think that?"

"I saw him go down there once, to the basement."

I roll my eyes. "Yeah, right."

"I swear."

"You always think everyone's boning," I point out.

"Well, I was right, wasn't I? About you and Edward?"

My stomach drops at the casual mention of him. "Yeah. You were."

Rose slaps his stomach. "Okay, we done here?"

"No," he says seriously. "Now that I think about it, I haven't really seen Jasper since he went down there."

"Okay, you're totally just trying to fuck with me," I say flatly.

He laughs a little too hard. "I'm not joking but whatever. Get out while you can."

"I _am_. In a week."

"We can come back and help," Rose offers.

"That would be great. I don't have much, but I'd appreciate it for sure." Other than what's in my bedroom, everything else is staying.

The three of us linger.

"You wanna come over for pizza?" Rose asks kindly. I think she can tell I'm feeling a little emotional over Em moving out, but she's being nice enough not to call me out on it directly.

I wave her off. "No, no. You two go enjoy your new place. Unpack, get settled."

Em grins. "And by _settled_ she means christen every surface of the place."

Rose and I groan in unison.

"Good_bye_," I say pointedly, rolling my eyes. Em pulls me into a hug, which turns into him wrapping his arm around my neck and grinding his knuckles against the top of my head. "God, I'm not gonna miss _that,_" I mutter and push him away, smoothing down my hair.

He grins. "Sure ya will."

Rose and I hug quickly before they head over to the truck. As the U-Haul pulls away from the curb, Em sticks a hand out the window, waving goodbye. I wave back, waiting until the truck is out of view, letting the bittersweet ending of an era sink in.

XXX

I don't particularly enjoy crying in therapy. In fact, I try to avoid it, even though I know that defeats the purpose of trying to be vulnerable.

But there's one day when I can't hold back no matter how hard I try.

Emily says we need to sort through some of my childhood experiences. She tells me to close my eyes, breathe, relax, and when I'm ready, visualize a younger Bella. Any age. I kind of laugh—it's weird, but she urges me to focus.

She asks where I'm visualizing my younger self, and I tell her Charlie's house, the kitchen. I don't know why, it just appears. She asks how I felt at that age and again, I kind of smile, feeling awkward. Emily doesn't scold me, but she says I won't be able to take anything away from this without taking it seriously.

With a deep breath, I recall the moment I'm thinking of—the first time Renee left, or at least, the first time I was able to really comprehend that she wasn't coming back.

Emily asks me what I'm feeling in the moment I'm recalling. It's such a simple question, but it's so fucking difficult to answer. With my eyes still closed, I feel tears form behind my lids. I try to imagine exactly how I would've been feeling, but it's hard to pinpoint. I only remember confusion—an urge to fix the moment, to help Charlie before I helped myself. I don't remember crying. I don't even remember being upset, not in front of him... because I didn't want _him _to be sad.

Emily continues to guide the conversation, telling me I need to be there for my younger self. That right now, my role here is to keep this version of Bella safe and to reconnect with her, to listen to how she's feeling inside. Because no one was able to do that for me growing up.

That's when I fucking lose it.

I cover my eyes with my hands, sobbing into them, using my shirt to wipe my nose. I can't help it—and I really try to—but the tears don't stop.

Emily quiets for a moment then keeps going. She says that repressing my emotions as an adult affects _everything._ That I need to be compassionate and nurturing with myself when triggering emotions come up—to lean into them, be curious about why certain feelings arise. The more I dive deeper, the more in tune I'll become with myself.

The tears don't stop, but for once, I'm not crying over losing Edward and not crying over Renee. I'm crying for myself, and it feels more healing than anything else.

XXX

"Can we talk for a minute?"

Ben's standing near my cubicle, timid smile on his face. He's been weird ever since our interaction months ago, a little standoffish. I think my push-back was a wake-up call that he should be more professional and not hit on his fucking staff. It's the very least he can do.

"We can talk," I say, tapping my pen against the desk. "What's up?"

"We're months away from opening the fulfillment center in Santa Barbara," he says, blue eyes focused on my face.

I nod, pulling my eyes from his, shuffling some papers around on my desk. "Right. How's that all going?"

"Good. Are you available to head there next week? I think it'll be good to cover some of the happenings on social media. Visit a few of the farms we'll be partnering with, get a behind-the-scenes look."

"Just me?" What I'm really asking is if _he's_ going.

"No. I'll be there. Paul and Maria, too." He drums his hands on the partition around me. He does that a lot—little anxious movements. Drumming his hands, cracking his knuckles.

"I think that should work. What days will we be gone?" I ask, glancing at my calendar tacked to the wall.

"Wednesday to Sunday. Maybe fly back Monday."

My mind is immediately on Edward and whether or not the opportunity will present itself for me to see him. I hold back from asking Ben if there will be any down time. "Sure, I'll go. Thanks for asking."

"Cool, I'll have Leah book your flight and hotel room. Keep an eye out for the itinerary."

"Will do."

He nods, a timid smile still present before walking away.

When he's gone, my heart beats rapidly. I pull up Google Maps and check how far Santa Barbara is from LA. It's two hours, which could end up being more with traffic, maybe. But it's closer than Seattle. It's definitely doable.

It makes my head spin, potentially seeing Edward next week. If he wants to, that is. But I can't imagine him not wanting to. If his email weeks ago was any indication of how he's still feeling, then I have zero doubt he'll want to see me.

Grabbing my phone, I text him without a second thought.

_Gonna be in Santa Barbara next week for work_. _Think you could find time to meet up? I'd really like to see you._

Edward replies instantly, not waiting an entire week to reply this time.

_Absolutely. What days are you there?_

I smile at my screen. _Wednesday to Sunday, maybe Monday._

_Just let me know when and where_ _and we'll make a plan._

I start and stop a reply a few times before landing on a cautious, _Okay._

He does the same, bubbles appearing, disappearing, but not actually sending anything.

_I'm so fucking excited to see you_, I add, because I'm feeling bold and he deserves to know.

_I am, too. Can I call you before then? Is that okay? _

My stomach flips with anticipation.

_Yeah, I'd like that._

_Like tonight? _he asks_. _

With a smile still on my face, I type out _yes_.

XXX

My phone doesn't leave my side for the rest of the day. I keep the volume on _loud_, checking every now and then to make sure it hasn't turned off or died or some other random instance that has never happened before but would keep me from talking to him tonight.

I busy myself with dinner, showering, and even organizing my closet because I've run out of things to do and I need to distract myself. I'm anxious, excited. By the time he calls around eight, I'm on the couch, pretending to be calm.

I answer on the first ring, not even trying to play it cool.

"Hey," I say, wondering if he can hear the smile in my voice.

"_Bella_." Hearing him say my name is such a simple pleasure that I hadn't realized I'd missed. "How are you?"

"I'm good. You?"

"Good," he says tiredly. "Mentally exhausted, but good."

"Work been crazy?"

"Yeah," is all he says. "I'm about to start working on a new project soon, and they want me in Chicago."

"Oh. Like… to move there, or—"

"No. Just for a month."

"That could be cool," I offer, unsure what to actually say. "Have you ever been?"

"Nope, but I'm looking forward to it. How's work for you?"

"Really good. I'm still focusing on social media and what not."

"I dunno if you noticed, but I followed the company's Instagram a while ago." _I did notice_. "I like your posts," he says sweetly. "Especially when you post memes about coffee."

"Oh. Thanks." I smile, twisting some hair around my finger. "If I had it my way, the entire account would be memes."

"If I had it my way, you'd post more content with you in it."

Oof. I wasn't expecting him to be straight-forward like _this_.

"Well… I'm trying to sell coffee. Not myself," I laugh lightly. "Might be a little weird."

"Guess so." He's quiet. "So what's the deal with this work trip?" he asks, sounding genuinely interested.

"We're opening a second fulfillment center. Two of the farms we're partnering with are in the foothills of Goleta, which is like, just outside of Santa Barbara. We're gonna meet some of the farmers, probably schmooze a little. And then I'll document some shit to post on social media, get people hyped." I pause, laughing at myself for talking-it-up. "I guess people don't really get hyped over a monthly coffee subscription box. Maybe hyped _from_ the coffee, but—" Edward laughs, and it catches me off guard. "What?" I ask.

"Nothing."

"Tell me."

"You're cute. Hearing you talk about work and just… yeah."

"Oh."

"I like hearing you get excited. I've missed it."

"You have?" I ask quietly.

"Amongst other things." My cheeks burn, heart bursts. "Am I being too forward? I can… hold back."

"No. No, I like it. You're being honest and it's sweet, so… please don't stop."

"Okay."

"I moved out of the house," I say, changing the subject. "So did Emmett."

"I know."

"He told you about me, too?"

"Well, yeah, but only because I asked."

"Oh."

"I ask about you all the time," he admits quietly, and my stomach flutters. "I think about you all the time, too. Yeah. I think that covers it."

"Edward, I—" His honesty sparks something inside of me, something that makes the idea of opening up to him feel safe. "You're always on my mind, too. You have been since the day you left."

"I was hoping you'd say that." He clears his throat. "What else is going on? How's your new place?"

"It's okay. It's been kinda weird living alone."

"Why?"

"I mean, I've only ever lived with you and Emmett. He and I moved in together at 19, then you joined us at 22." My throat constricts a little. "Y'all were my family. I just miss the dynamic sometimes."

Edward's tone softens. "We're still your family."

"Yeah." I swallow. "I can show you my place, if you want. It's small, but I like it. Can we FaceTime?"

"I don't… know."

I bristle at his words, but recover quickly. I can't expect things to be perfect between us, and I know it's going to take time to get back to where we were, both as friends and romantically.

"That's okay," I say evenly. "It might be too much, too soon, and—"

"Bella, no. It's not that I don't want to," he interrupts, exhaling into the phone. "It's just… I haven't seen you in over three months. I don't want the first time to be over a screen. I want the real thing."

My heart swells at his candor. I love how open he's being right now, leaving zero room for me to question his intentions, how he's feeling.

"Then again," he says, tone suddenly light-hearted and playful. "It's really tempting to take what I can get right now. Maybe we _should _FaceTime."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Let's do it."

"Gimme a second. I need to put a shirt on," I tease.

His groan fills my ear. "Seriously, Swan?"

"Sorry, bad joke."

His laugh is breathy, and soon enough I'm staring at his beautiful face. Familiar green eyes, hair a little shorter, lighter, but still a mess. With sun-kissed skin, I stare at his lips, curled into the sweetest smile. He looks so incredibly good, even over fucking FaceTime.

"God, it's good to see you," he breathes out, eyes crinkling around the edges.

"Please tell me that glow is real, and you don't get spray tans now?"

His laugh is genuine, lighting his face up even more. "We have something in LA called sunshine. Ever heard of it?"

"Not in a while, clearly. Pasty AF over here."

He laughs again. "Shut up. You look beautiful." My stomach clenches. "Beautiful AF," he adds, and it's my turn to laugh.

"You shouldn't say that."

"It's true, you are."

"No, I meant you shouldn't say AF. It doesn't suit you, like at all. You sound like an old man trying to be hip."

He grins, exhaling a laugh through his nose. "So I _can_ call you beautiful."

"Sure. I mean… if that's what you think or whatever."

"I do think that. Or whatever," he mimics my tone.

God—_this_. This is what I missed. The banter, the flirting. His playful tone, creating such a light feeling in my heart, my stomach, my head. Despite all the hurt between us, it's clear we'll always have a soft spot for each other. We'll always be able to pick up right where we left off. _This_ is the easy part, but I know we have a lot of work ahead. For now, I'll gladly accept the ease that lingers between us.

"So… you want a tour?"

"Not anymore," he says, kind of smirking. "I'd rather stare at you."

My cheeks heat, and I feel them burn brighter than before because he can see me this time.

"I still do that to you, huh?" he asks, kind of flirty, kind of sexy. His smile is gone, replaced with something heavier. Something that looks pretty close to lust.

I lick my lips. "Guess so."

"You still affect me, too."

"Good," I say, feeling bold from his admission.

We ease into conversation, both catching each other up on what's been filling our days. He talks about his job, even expressing a little annoyance for one of his co-workers who constantly tries to one-up him. He talks shit about the traffic, but only says good things about the food. He likes his apartment, even though it's still pretty bare—apparently he hasn't been motivated to decorate much. Eventually he admits the first few days in LA were rough, because all he could think about was the time we visited together. I tell him it wasn't any easier over here for me. We both fall quiet after that.

When Santa Barbara gets brought up again, it's Edward's doing. He's hesitant, but he suggests that he drive over from LA and stay in town while I'm there. He can take some time off work, entertain himself while I'm busy, get his own room at the hotel. I think it over, and everything he's saying sounds so fucking wonderful. He looks worried, though, like I'm going to shut down his idea—I can see it in his eyes. When I still haven't answered, he goes on, saying it makes more sense for him to stay in Santa Barbara rather than drive back and forth every evening. _It won't give us enough time_, he says. And he just wants time.

"Okay," I say after a moment. "If you're okay with that… I'm okay with that."

Relief floods his face. "Really?"

I nod. "I don't like the idea of one of us driving back and forth. And I think it'll be good to give us time to properly talk. Because… we do need to talk."

"I think so, too."

"Like, actually talk. Not the kind of talking we're doing right now. Not _fun_ talking."

"Bella," he says gently, understanding. "I know."

"Okay."

"So… let me know tomorrow what hotel y'all are staying at, and I'll book a room."

My heart feels so full, and having this to look forward to ignites all these feelings that have been stagnant over the last few months. Like desire and excitement and yearning.

"Okay," I say. "I'll let you know."

His face is so fucking sweet, brows raised, eyes hopeful. "Maybe I can call you again tomorrow?"

My stomach flutters. "You could. Maybe around the same time?"

"Maybe." He grins, and I mirror his expression. "Definitely."

* * *

**Ah, the collective sigh of relief. **

**Apologies to Hadley for posting before she could read the rest. Mistakes are all mine.**

**Only three chapters left *cries all the tears* I'm hoping to update Wednesday or Thursday.  
****  
Thank you for reading! I love hearing y'all's thoughts.**


	28. Chapter 28

**You guys got me second-guessing letting this story end (but it will**—**it ****has to**—**and let's be real, you would be bored and so would I lolol). Thank you for making it this far.**

**Many thanks to Hadley for her help! Next update will be Sunday.**

* * *

XXX

Edward and I FaceTime over the next five nights. We don't touch on anything too serious, always keeping the conversation light and sometimes a little flirty. We don't talk about our future or my therapy or Renee because all of those things feel a little too heavy, and we decide they need to be addressed in person.

The truth is, I don't know what's going to happen with us. Of course I want to be with him, and I get the impression he wants to be with me, too. But we need to have a real conversation and lay out concrete plans for what getting back together would look like. Regardless of what happened in the past, we'll still be long-distance, and that alone has its challenges. But now more than ever, I'm willing to do whatever it takes to make it work. I know what it's like to be without him, and I refuse to let that happen again.

Two nights before I fly out to California, he doesn't call at his normal time. It's nearing nine, and I'm a little worried. We texted earlier in the day, and everything seemed okay, so I'm not sure what, if anything, could be wrong. I'm about to reach out when he finally FaceTimes me.

When he appears on the screen, my stomach drops a little when I see he's not smiling.

"Hey, sorry," he mumbles, looking a little distracted. Maybe even deflated. "I didn't mean to keep you waiting."

"It's okay," I murmur cautiously. "Everything's alright, yeah?"

He kind of avoids my eyes, scrubbing a hand over his face. "No. Not really."

My heart sinks, but I try not to jump to any conclusions before I hear what he has to say. "What's wrong, Edward?"

"I can't go to Santa Barbara anymore."

"Oh. Do you feel like it's too much pressure or—"

"No. God, no. Nothing like that," he stresses. "None of this has been too much. I've loved talking to you these last few nights. Long story short: some things got moved up, and I'm flying to Chicago tomorrow, the day before you arrive. It's all so fucking—" He stops himself, breathing sharply through his nose. "It's bullshit. The timing is bullshit, and I put up a fight, I really did, Bell. But I can't _not_ go," he says, looking so fucking sad. "They'll pull me from the project, and I can't afford to lose it."

"I get it." I do. But it still hurts. I know it's not his fault; he has zero control. And this is his career. The timing isn't ideal, but we'll make it work. "It's okay. We can see each other another time. Like when you get back."

"In a month?" he mutters, not looking convinced.

"Sure," I say, trying to stay positive, despite the fact that I want to burst into tears. "What's another month right?" Even as I say it, I don't believe it. A month is a lot. A month is prolonging our inevitable conversation about what we both want and need. Prolonging our reunion. Everything still feels so fragile. A month between now and then could change so many things between us. I struggle with not letting on that I'm worried, though, because I'm trying to have faith, trying not to doubt us like I did before.

"We can still FaceTime," I add, shrugging.

"It's not the same."

I bite my tongue then say it. "If we eventually get back together, it would be like this all the time."

"What do you mean?"

"We'd have to rely on FaceTime and sporadic trips that might fall through. Like, this would be our reality."

Maybe that was the wrong thing to say because he doesn't look happy. At all.

"But in a few months y'all will have a job site in Santa Barbara. So… we'd only be a two hour drive."

"I won't necessarily work there," I say carefully. "That would be ideal, of course. The company can't relocate all of the Seattle crew, though."

"I'm not talking about the Seattle crew; I'm talking about just you," he says, frowning. "Surely getting relocated wouldn't be a problem if you asked?"

"I guess I assumed they would hire a completely new team."

His face falls. "You haven't even looked into relocating?"

"I mean… have you?" I ask sadly.

He shakes his head, looking away. "No—because I don't even know what we're doing."

"Me either. Which is why I haven't mentioned anything about working in California. Don't you think we need to actually have a conversation before either of us looks into making a permanent change?"

When he exhales, he looks more frustrated than before. "This is just so… fucking shitty."

"Are you mad at me?" I mumble.

"Not with _you._ I'm mad at the situation. I'm pissed I have to leave tomorrow, and I don't get to see you," he mumbles sadly. "I really wanted to see you. I _need_ to see you."

His desperation tugs at my heart. "I know. I really wanna see you, too."

"I'm sorry our plans got fucked up."

"Don't. It's okay." I shake my head and offer a tiny, hopeful smile. "We'll make a new plan. And as far as the relocation... I'll figure it out. I'll try to get some info this week. Okay?"

"Okay."

The conversation is stilted after that. We're both in a funk, too sad to keep up the charade that we're okay, so we end the call early. I tell him to have a good flight, and he extends the same sentiment.

The next night, he doesn't call. And neither do I.

XXX

"I'm not gonna be able to see Edward this week like we planned," I tell Emily.

"What happened?"

"He flew to Chicago today. Work shit… I don't know. It sucks."

"How did you deal with the sudden change in plans?"

"Okay, I think. I mean, I get it. It's out of his control. Out of my control, too." I pause, sipping my water. "He was really upset. I hated seeing him like that."

"I'm sure he wants to see you."

"I know. We kind of argued, though, like… I think he was assuming I'd move to California, even though we hadn't talked about that yet."

"Do you want to move?"

"I'm not opposed to eventually doing that. I just want to be in a healthy place with him before we talk about it."

"Do you not feel like you're in a healthy place?"

"We're not in an unhealthy place but… I don't know. I think that conversation needs to happen in person, and it's delayed now."

Emily nods carefully. "Well, I think you're being wise about this, not jumping into anything. You're showing flexibility with sudden change of plans—you're not holding it against Edward or yourself. I think you're showing wonderful progress, Bella."

"Thanks."

"Were you able to write a letter to Renee? I know the last couple of weeks you were struggling with it."

I smile timidly. "After like, ten attempts of trying? Yes. I wrote something."

"Would you like to share it? Or keep it to yourself?"

I sigh, nervously wringing my hands together. "I can try reading it." I grab the letter I brought with me and unfold it until the crinkled page stares back at me.

"Renee," I say aloud, already feeling emotion well in my chest. "I've spent a lot of time thinking about what to say to you. The truth is, I don't really know how I'm feeling. I'm torn between being hurt you left, heartbroken that I clearly wasn't enough, and grateful that you weren't around to fuck me up even more—your words.

For most of my life, I didn't feel like I was enough. I spent so many years trying to make people like me, to feel some sort of acceptance, when all I really wanted was to feel accepted and loved by you," I mumble, voice breaking. "Turns out, accepting and loving myself feels infinitely better than having your approval. It only took me twenty-seven years to get here, and I'm still not fully there. But it feels good to start recognizing why I am the way I am." I reach for a tissue, dabbing my eyes. "I'll never know who I could've been if you had stuck around. I used to feel robbed of that identity, but I've since stopped feeling sorry for myself. We all get dealt different hands, and this is mine.

I thought long and hard about what I need from you, but I think the answer right now is nothing. Maybe that will change, maybe it won't. I've figured out a way to get everything I need without you for the time being. Down the road, when I don't feel so raw, maybe we can have some sort of relationship, but it has to be on my terms. For now I'll keep working on myself, and hope to see you on the same path, too."

Emily stays quiet until I'm done. I fold the letter, staring down at my lap.

"I know that wasn't easy. How are you feeling?"

"Why am I crying? I'm not sad," I say, blowing my nose. "I just feel relieved. Like, it's all out there now. Even if she doesn't know everything I just said, acknowledging it to myself feels good."

Emily hands me another tissue, and we talk a little about expectations. I mention that I should probably have a real conversation with Charlie soon, and she merely nods, letting me decide whether or not it's best for me. I like that she doesn't push, but gently guides me along.

"Okay, well. I think that's our time for today. I'll see you next week, after your trip."

"Sounds good."

"I'm really proud of you," she says, a supportive smile on her face.

"Thanks. I am, too."

XXX

When I get home from therapy, I spend the remainder of the evening packing and making sure everything is squared away before my flight tomorrow. When eight o'clock comes and goes, and Edward doesn't call for a second night, I'm really bummed. I haven't heard from him all day, but I also haven't tried to reach out, either.

When I actually mull it over and replay how we last ended things on the phone, I don't actually think he's purposely avoiding me because he's mad or doesn't want to be with me. It's clear we're both hurting right now with the sudden change in plans, so I try not to dwell on it too much. If I still haven't heard from him by tomorrow night, I'll call him and check in.

I'm about to go to bed when I spot the envelope from him on top of my dresser. I hesitate. I've had this mindset of only reading his letter when I'm _ready_, but that feels so elusive. With all the progress I've made recently, and Edward being part of my life again, I think I deserve to see what he had to say months ago. At this moment, I feel confident I can handle whatever's in there.

I grab the envelope and crawl into bed. With a deep breath, I open his letter.

_Bella,_

_This is one of the hardest things I've ever had to do._

_I've walked to your door multiple times, but keep having to stop myself. Hearing you cry is fucking killing me. But you asked me not to put you through another goodbye, and all I have is my word. So I'm writing you this letter._

_I hate myself for leaving. More than that, I hate that you think this is me leaving _you_. I would never do that, not like Renee did. I hope one day you can realize that not everyone in your life will hurt you the way she has. If I had it my way, you know things wouldn't be like this between us. But I take full responsibility for creating this mess, too. I realize I said I didn't doubt us, but I did. I wasn't sure you could handle hearing the truth, so I kept it from you. And I'm sorry. I will always regret that. You deserve an honest man, and I swear I can be that for you if you let me. I can't change what happened, but I hope that one day we can move forward together._

_I don't know when you'll finally read this, but I hope it's when you're in a good place to see yourself clearly and to understand that I love you so much. I always have, Bella. I don't see that stopping anytime soon. You're it for me. This thing between us isn't fleeting—it's real. Which is why it's so important for you to take this time to work on yourself. I'll work on myself, too. You only deserve the very best, and I want to give that to you._

_So now this is the part where I leave you my Alaska Airlines login information and my new address. When you're ready, I want to see you. Use my miles, book a ticket, and come find me. I'll be waiting._

_I love you._

_Edward_


	29. Chapter 29

**Eeeeeeee. I'm excited for this one. E****arly update since I was able to knock out 2k of the epilogue so far. So I guess technically there are two more chapters after this... next update will be Tuesday.**

**So much love for Hadley! Now I just need to start a new story after this so she'll never leave me, lol.  
**

* * *

It's after two in the afternoon when we arrive at the Santa Barbara Inn. It's on the waterfront, and the Spanish Mediterranean architecture is breathtaking. Ben, Maria, Paul, and I all get checked in, heading to our respective rooms to unpack and whatever else we need to do. We have plans to meet back in the lobby in an hour to visit the fulfillment center then head to an early dinner to go over our itinerary for the next few days.

When I make it up to my room, I leave my suitcase by the door and check everything out. There's a king-size bed, a large clawfoot tub which I will definitely take advantage of later, and an impressive view of the Pacific Ocean. The display of flowers on the desk is beautiful, but it's not until I'm close enough that I notice a card sticking out. My palms grow sweaty as I walk over, eyeing the dozen pale pink peonies. The skeptical—and annoyed—part of me assumes they're from Ben. But when I open the card, they're from Edward.

_I know this doesn't make up for not being able to see you, but at least they look nice? I'm sorry. I'll make it up to you. Love, Edward_

My heart softens more than it already has since reading his letter last night. I lean over, inhaling them. God. I've never been a flower person, but there's something so fucking romantic about unexpectedly receiving them from someone you love.

I know he's a couple hours ahead in Chicago, so he's probably still at work, but I send him a quick text anyway.

_Can you talk_? I ask. I hang up some of my clothes in the closet and wash my face, hurriedly slapping on some moisturizer after I hear the chime of my phone.

_I can for a minute, but I definitely have more time later tonight_

Instead of replying, I call him, smiling when he answers right away.

"I got your apology flowers," I say instantly. "You didn't have to do that. But thank you. They're beautiful."

"I wanted to. And I am sorry."

"Don't be."

"You in Santa Barbara?"

"No," I tease. "I just assumed you sent flowers to my hotel and guessed correctly."

"Shit. Right," he laughs. "I'm sorry I haven't called the last couple of nights. I just… yeah. My head was in a weird place. I hope the flowers made up for that, too."

"In a weird place about us?"

"Like… feeling like I let you down. _Again_. I dunno."

I can hear the remorse in his voice, and it kills me. "Edward… no. This work trip to Chicago was out of your control. I would never hold that against you."

I hear some commotion in the background. "Can I call you tonight? I kinda have to go…"

"Yeah." I pause, whispering, "I read your letter."

He's quiet, then offers a softer: "You did?"

"Yes. It was perfect, Edward. It meant everything to me. I…" Can't even find the words to properly convey just how secure and loved it made me feel. "It was perfect," I say again.

He exhales, breath filling my ear. "Fuck, I miss you."

"Me too. Call me later."

"Okay." He hesitates. "Bella, I—" He stops himself, but I feel like I already know. I know what he wants to say, but he's worried. He shouldn't be, though, because I never stopped loving him. Not once.

My stomach flips, butterflies swarming around and creating the best nerves. "Me too," I say quietly.

"Good." It's like I can feel his relief through the line. "I'll call you later, okay?"

"Okay. Bye."

XXX

I'm in the bath when Edward FaceTimes me.

I hesitate, not sure if I should answer… then do anyway.

"Whoa," he says, grinning. "This is a nice surprise."

"Ha, ha." He can't actually see anything because the phone isn't low enough. From the cheeky smirk on his face, you'd think he could see _everything._

"Is this my 'thank-you' for the flowers?"

I smile. "You wish."

"Really, are you actually trying to torture me?" he asks, gaze growing a little heavier.

"_No_. I can call you back if it's too distracting."

He shakes his head, looking like the epitome of a man who is sexually frustrated. "It's okay. I wanna talk to you."

"How's Chicago?"

"Fine. I'd be having more fun in Santa Barbara, though."

I groan. "I wish you were here."

"Like, in the bath with you?" he asks, smirking.

"I mean… I wouldn't be opposed to that."

It's his turn to groan. He fists some hair, and it stays lifted, making me smile. "Who's with you, anyway?" he asks.

"No one. I have the room to myself."

"I mean on the trip."

"Maria, Paul and… Ben."

He nods, face neutral. "Can I ask about that?"

"What about it?"

"Did anything happen with him after I left?"

I hesitate. "Maybe we should talk about stuff like this in person."

"Why?"

"Because it can leave too much room for miscommunication. I don't want that to happen when we're thousands of miles away from each other."

"I get that… but now I also get the feeling something happened with him, and you don't want to tell me."

"Nothing happened with him." I pause, working up the courage to tell him the rest. I don't imagine he'll be thrilled—hell, he didn't like it when the guy gave me a ride home. But I have to be honest, if I expect him to be, too. "There was one thing months ago… he asked if there was a vibe between us. But that was it."

Edward's gaze hardens. "He did, huh?"

"I guess he thought there was something there, but I shut it down."

He's quiet, and I can see his brain working overtime. "When?"

"A few days after you left."

His laugh lacks humor. "Couldn't even give it a week before trying to make a move?"

"I shut it down," I say again, firmly. "Nothing happened after that."

"Does he not realize how _fucking_ inappropriate that is?"

"He does now. It's not like he came onto me, he just asked—"

"He did come onto you."

"Right. Okay. But it didn't _feel_ like that. After I expressed I wasn't interested, he never brought anything up ever again. Honestly, it's been decent."

"As your boss, he shouldn't ever ask you if you are interested. It's…" He licks his lips, shaking his head. "What a dick."

"It was months ago," I mumble, but I know that doesn't make it any better.

He exhales, forehead creasing with frustration. "Maybe it's a good thing I'm not there. I don't think I'd be able to hold back from decking him."

"Edward."

"What?"

"Just… hold on." I set the phone down, draining the bath and slipping into the plush robe. "You can't deck my boss," I say when I'm holding the phone again, leaving the bathroom. "Although it is a little attractive and satisfying to imagine, it's not right. I could lose my job."

"_He_ should lose his job," he mutters. "Does my mom know?"

"What?"

"That her friend's son is an unprofessional prick?"

"No, I didn't tell Esme. I'm not going to. It's taken care of. Please don't say anything either. I'm not asking for trouble."

He doesn't look happy but says, "Fine."

I sit on the bed, leaning back against a mountain of pillows, sighing exaggeratedly.

"Well, now it's your turn," I prompt, raising my brows.

"For what?"

"Have you dated anyone? Or… whatever."

"No. One of my colleagues kind of hinted I should ask her out, but I never did. Later on when she finally suggested we hang out, I said I was involved with someone. So that ended her interest."

"Oh." My mind spirals a little, imagining the kind of woman Edward would work with. Insanely smart, funny, tall, probably a fiery redhead. Bold enough to ask a man out. Comes from a good family, actually has a relationship with her mom. Exactly the kind of woman I'd envision Edward to be with. But he doesn't want that. He wants me. It's a little easier to breathe after I remind myself of that. "I thought this conversation was gonna be… different."

"Different how?" he asks, tone softened.

"I thought we'd talk about your letter. How amazing it was and how I appreciated and loved every word. I didn't think we'd use this time to talk about people of zero importance."

"Sorry. It was killing me not knowing," he mumbles. "I'm really glad you finally read the letter. I hope you know I meant every word."

"I do know." We stare at one another, my entire being missing this man so much. Not sure how many times I'll have to say it but, "I wish you were here."

"Me too."

"Did they put you up in some bougie hotel?" I ask. He flips the camera around to show me his room, and I whistle. "Nice digs. You have a kitchen, too?"

"It's one of those extended-stay places, so it's furnished like an apartment, I guess. And yeah, there's a kitchen for all the food I _won't_ be cooking."

I chuckle. "You might eventually get tired of eating out."

Edward starts moving over toward the window, pulling back the curtains, showing off his view.

"We're right across from Millennium Park, so that's been cool," he says, flipping the camera back to him.

"Send me a selfie with you and The Bean tomorrow."

He grins, shaking his head. "I'm not a selfie kinda guy, Bella."

"I think you have it in you. For me?"

"We'll see." He sighs, expression turning tender. "So when am I gonna get to see you in person?"

"When do you get back to LA?"

"April 30th, like, late that night."

"So May 1st…" I prompt, smiling.

"Your ass better be on a flight to come see me," he says playfully, eyes softening. "Or I'll come to you. Either way, it's happening."

"Yeah," I say, heart exploding with anticipation. "It's a date."

XXX

My time in Santa Barbara passes by quickly.

The days are sunny and warm, filled with meetings, gallivanting around fields of coffee trees, and cramming in as much content as I can. My evenings—the best part of the trip—are filled with Edward.

We talk every night. We watch Netflix together in our hotel rooms, eat take-out over FaceTime. He practices his upcoming presentation, asking for my feedback. The more we talk and spend this time together, the more I need May to be here right the fuck now.

The night before I fly home, he's being flirty. Sexy. He's saying so many things about what he wants to do to me when we can finally see each other. He's done that a couple other times before, but I shut it down, laughing at him and brushing it off. Not tonight though. I let him say whatever he wants, even urging him to say more. His words are erotic and sweet, and I'm aching for him. I start to imagine what he's saying, and I can see it all so fucking well. Then my hand slides into my underwear, and I can _feel _what he's saying. He's making the best sounds, touching himself, showing me, grunting and groaning when I show him, too. It's so good, and I know his hand would feel better, but right now this is the best. I imagine him touching me, breathing into my neck, the weight of his body. And then I'm begging him out loud to love me, fuck me. Love me. Fuck me.

He says he does. He will. And then we both let go.

XXX

I startle awake in a sweat.

My phone says it's four in the morning. I could still sleep for a couple hours before I have to be at the airport, but the nightmare I had keeps me awake.

It had to do with Edward. It's hard to recall how it starts, but it's easy to remember how it ends—with him not wanting me. He's distant, weird. I keep trying to get his attention, and he purposely avoids me, making me chase him. When I finally reach him, he doesn't look like himself. It's then that he turns into Ben. No, Renee. It's so confusing, and I'm crying—I think I actually did cry in my sleep—until it's Edward again, and he's laughing. Like, _what? What the fuck do you expect from me?_

That's when I wake up.

I cringe, replaying it. I know it doesn't actually mean anything, it's just bad timing. So many thoughts about Edward and us getting back together have been invading my head lately, it was only a matter of time until my subconscious took over and flipped the script on me.

I stay awake, drinking too much coffee and packing up the room, so I still have an hour to spare before I have to meet everyone downstairs to head to the airport.

I text Edward, knowing he might not respond, but he's two hours ahead, so I know he's awake.

_Had the worst dream. _

God. I'm a broken record, but I miss him. I just… four more weeks? Four more weeks of FaceTime? And then after whatever time we get to spend together in person, it goes back to screens and texts and touching ourselves, pretending it's the other person? I don't want airport-goodbyes and months to pass by without kissing him. It overwhelms me with sadness to imagine it. That's not a relationship. That's barely surviving. He's worth it, though, and I'll take what I can get. But at this point… I feel so stupid. He's what I want, and he's who I need. So why the fuck am I not giving myself to him fully? Why the hell am I not uprooting my life and telling him _he's_ my life? That I'm all in? Because I should be. Who do I actually have in Seattle, other than Emmett and Charlie? I love them, but I love Edward more. What's serving me—what's _actually _fulfilling me there?

The answer is nothing.

Fuck my job. Fuck Ben. Fuck Renee. Fuck my lonely one-bedroom apartment that smells like stale weed. Fuck feeling less-than. Fuck doubting myself and Edward and the love he's so willing to give me. Fuck _me_ for ever making him think he didn't mean everything to me.

Fuck this.

All of it.

I open my laptop and with trembling hands, I pull up flights from Santa Barbara to Chicago. I don't think—I just do. When I find one that leaves around ten, I choose it, deciding against using his miles in case it sends him a confirmation email. Instead, I grab my credit card, frantically type in my information, and book a last-minute, one-way flight to Edward.


	30. Chapter 30

**Wah. I'm not ready for this to end, y'all. I do have an epilogue I'm working on, and then some... so hopefully I can get the epilogue out this weekend.**

**So many people helped out with this story over the last few years (Kim, Vic, Patrizia, Liv**—**love you guys) but I wouldn't have been able to complete it without the encouragement and guidance of sweet Hadley. She's the best, and I'm so lucky to have her as a friend.**

**Remember when I was like, "I'm gonna write a fun, humorous fic!" Jokes on me. But it turned into something so much more (for me, at least) and I'm so grateful to everyone who stuck around for the ride. It means everything—thank you for reading.**

**Now let's get those two idiots back together... :)**

* * *

Instead of meeting my colleagues in the lobby, I catch a ride to the airport by myself. I text Ben on the way there, telling him I'm sorry, but something important came up, and I have to take some time off to fly out to Chicago. I don't feel too bad lying. And really, I'm not lying. Edward _is_ important. Ben replies that he hopes everything is okay and to let him know if there's anything he can do. I merely reply thanks, and keep it at that.

Before my first flight takes off, Edward replies to the text about my bad dream.

_How did you have anything but good dreams after THAT FaceTime ;)_

I smile at the screen and shake my head, cheeks heating as I remember how turned on I was last night.

_I don't know_, I type. _Definitely not reading into it. Was up at 4am though, so I'm dead._

_Yikes, yeah. You at the airport?_

_Yes_. I would've been here anyway to fly to Seattle. I just keep the part about me surprising him to myself.

_Have a safe flight. Text me when you land? I'll be in a meeting, but still._

_I will._ I hesitate, then keep my _fuck it _state of mind and add: _I love you, Edward._

_Love you, too, baby._

XXX

I'm a nervous-wreck.

During my layover, I have a Bloody Mary. And on the flight to Chicago, I drink a mini bottle of champagne. I'm just so anxious to see Edward. To hold him, actually touch him. To kiss his face. To see his expression when he finally realizes I'm there. The more I think about it, the more my body and head buzz with anticipation. I don't think I'll feel settled until I'm in his arms.

When I land, I take a half-hour Uber to Millennium Park. I don't know exactly where he's staying, and I can't necessarily ask without ruining the surprise. But from what he said—that he was at some extended-stay type of hotel across from Millennium Park—I think I'll be able to figure it out.

I do some Google searches on the way there and have it narrowed down to at least two places. I finally land on which one it probably is, only after looking at the photos of the rooms. I'm pretty proud and mentally high-five myself for being a good little stalker. My celebratory mood doesn't last long because now that I know where he is, my nerves intensify.

It's just after seven when I'm dropped off. I cross the street, rolling my suitcase behind me, walking toward the vintage building. I'm on high alert, wondering if I might accidentally run into him. He's probably already in his room though—we've been talking around this time every night. In fact, he might call me soon, and realizing we'll get to do this in person makes my stomach clench in the very best way.

I have to wait a couple of minutes to talk to someone at the front desk, and the extra time kills me. I anxiously tap my foot as I glance around the lobby until the person in front of me is done being helped, and it's my turn.

"Checking in?" the clerk finally asks, not bothering to look up from his computer.

"Actually… well." I lean my head a little closer. "Can you tell me which room Edward Cullen is in?"

At this, he looks up, frowning even more than he already was. "I'm sorry. We can't give out that information."

I figured. I just hoped I might get someone who was a little bit of a rule-breaker.

"I get it," I laugh lightly, trying to appear cool as I glance at his name tag. "But you see, Ted, I'm his girlfriend, and I'm here to surprise him." I know it's futile, but maybe he's a rule-breaker for grand gestures. "I flew here from—"

He's not falling for it. "Again, we can't give out that information. If you'd like to book a room, I can help you. Otherwise I'm afraid—"

"Bella?"

Everything stops.

I spin around to find a messy-haired Edward with wide green eyes standing behind me. There's no screen, no thousands of miles between us. He's even more handsome in person than I remembered. His brows are knit together in confusion, but seconds pass and the crease on his forehead disappears the same moment a blinding smile morphs onto his face. My breath catches in my throat, and I'm throwing myself at him, wrapping my arms around him so tightly, barely giving him time to register what's happening.

"_Bella_." He says my name again and I melt at the sound. "I can't believe it," he breathes into my hair, dropping whatever was in his hands to hold me. "You're here."

"I'm here. _Fuck_, I'm so happy to see you," I mumble against the crook of his neck, hot tears burning my eyes.

"How did you—" He stops, loosening his grip but keeping his hands on me.

"I booked the flight this morning. I was just feeling idiotic, like… I want you to know I'm all in. I'll do anything for you, anything," I ramble, my thoughts jumbled and not coming out coherently. "I don't want it to be like before, where you're putting in the effort, and I'm just… I can't do that to us agai—"

He cuts me off, kissing me, and I close my eyes. His hand cups my cheek, brushing tears, and our lips stay pressed together for a moment before I kiss him back deeply. His mouth is familiar but strange. My cheeks are wet, and his lips are soft, and it's like the last kiss we had, in his bedroom, but it's so much better because this is not a goodbye. It's _hello_ and _I'm all in_ and _I love you._ It's good, so good and _him, _and I clutch at his chest, needing him closer because fuck if I'll ever let him go again.

We begrudgingly pull away when the angsty clerk clears his throat.

"Miss? Will you be needing a room?" he asks, looking between us disapprovingly.

"She won't be needing a room," Edward answers for me, reaching for the handle of my suitcase, tangling my fingers in his other hand.

My heart is pounding so hard when we're alone in the elevator, I'm certain he can hear it. He doesn't pull his gaze away from my face, and it's the best feeling, his adoring eyes on me. It doesn't lessen the hammering in my chest though. If anything it makes me more nervous.

We aren't in the elevator long before we reach the tenth floor. I follow him out, my hand still in his, until we're in the room. We remove our jackets, and then he immediately grabs my waist, pulling me against him and hugging tightly. We stay like that for a moment, just holding each other. Nerves flutter in my stomach but in the best way.

"I seriously can't believe you're here." We pull back just enough to see each other's faces. "How did you find me?"

"Google." We laugh, and I add as an afterthought, "Did you leave something downstairs?"

He looks confused, then says, "Shit. My food from Shake Shack."

"Go back and get it. I'll wait."

The shake of his head is subtle. "There's no way in hell I'm leaving you."

I laugh his name, telling him he can go. But he doesn't move, just keeps staring down at me. His eyes trail over my face and body, like he still can't believe it's really me.

"You're so beautiful," he murmurs, absently tucking some hair behind my ear, fingers gently grazing down my cheek and along my jaw.

"I've been flying all day. I'm just—"

"_Don't_. You're beautiful." I lean into his touch, and he sighs. "God, I fucking… love you. I love you."

I'm kissing him again, mumbling my own feelings of love against his mouth, nearly chanting it because he needs to know. The sweet kisses don't last long before it erupts into something more heated and passionate. His hands roam over my ass, gripping me to him, and my body tingles all over. I moan into his mouth before pulling back to kiss his neck, his Adam's apple. It's my favorite part of his neck—how it juts out in the manliest way. I tell him this, I don't know why, and he laughs. I can feel the vibration from his throat on my lips.

"Fuck. Okay. If we don't stop, I don't think I'll be able to hold back," he grits out. "And as much as I want that—"

"Don't stop. I want it, too." My body is on fire, and I won't be able to think or breathe until he tames this feeling.

"I can't believe I'm about to say this but… should we talk?"

I unbutton his jeans, sliding my hand down the front and into his briefs.

"It's been _months_," I murmur, watching his face go slack as I touch him. "Like, since before Thanksgiving. I think we can hold off on the talk."

"Shit," he says, but it comes out like a slow hiss. "Okay."

I stroke him a few times, but he's already so hard. So I yank down his jeans, and he steps out of them, his erection creating a tent in his briefs. His toned arms lift me up until my legs are hooked around his waist, my mouth sucking on his neck again as he walks us toward the bed.

"Your arms are bigger," I pant against his skin.

"I started boxing."

I groan. "Your chest too. Fuck."

Though I'm still attached to his body, he lays me down on the mattress, staying between my legs. He grinds against me for a moment, then frantically takes off all my clothes before ridding himself of his own, too. I can see his arms and chest and everything that was covered by cotton, and he looks so, so good.

He's there again, pressing into me but without barriers. Feeling the pressure right where I need it is so good, I feel like I'm gonna lose it. I tell him this, and he accepts it as a dare. When his mouth makes its way down my body, sucking and licking, it doesn't take long until I'm gripping his messy hair and lifting my hips off the mattress, coming against his mouth.

I catch my breath as he lies on top of me again, kissing my neck, my lips. Brushing some hair away from my face, he stares down at me in the most tender way. It takes me back to the first time we had sex.

"I've missed you," he whispers.

My fingers are feather-light on his back. "Me too."

"I've missed the sounds you make," he murmurs hotly. "I've missed putting my mouth on you. I forgot how much you love that."

"I've missed you doing it," I say breathlessly. "It's so much better than when I had to imagine it."

His eyes glaze over, darkening. "You touched yourself while thinking about me?"

"All the time."

He rolls off of me. "Show me."

My hand moves down my stomach, fingers sliding inside where it's still slick from his mouth. He moves a little so he can watch, face going slack as he does.

"Fuck, that's so hot." He licks his lips, groaning as he strokes himself.

I stop, bringing my fingers to his mouth, and he leans over to suck them. The sensation sends a tingle throughout my body.

"I want you right now," I moan, and he moves between my legs. "I _need_ you."

"I don't think I'll last long…" he prompts, sounding apologetic.

"Don't care."

He grips his dick and guides himself into me. It takes a second, but after some tortuously slow thrusts, I push back with my hips, needing more friction. I pull his shoulder, until his chest meets mine. With his face buried in my neck, it's just like I imagined last night—hot breath on my skin and the full weight of his body as he fucks me. I nearly cry because I've missed this so much.

After a few minutes, he slows his pace.

"Get on top," he breathes out. "I wanna watch you."

He pulls out, and I climb on top of him, sliding back down in one swift move. We both cry out, then it's quiet in the room, only our shallow breath and moans filling the space.

Reaching up to cup my face, he slides his thumb into my mouth for me to suck on, and his eyes shut tightly. "You feel so fucking good, Bella."

Our bodies move lazily, loving the way it feels, like we have nothing but time.

"I love seeing you on me, fucking me," he grits out, thumb ghosting over my clit. All I can manage is a soft, throaty moan because I'm close again. "I love that you're mine." Gripping my hips, he pumps faster before sitting up and attaching his lips to mine. "Stay with me, Bell."

"Okay," I pant. "I'm not going anywhere. Ever again. I love you."

His fingers dig into my skin, and I hope he leaves a mark. _Bruise me. Brand me. Make me yours_, I want to beg. I wrap my arms around his neck, keeping him close and whispering the words into his ear, telling him just how much of his I am.

He nods dumbly, eyes closed and mouth open as we pound against one another.

"I love you," he breathes out, biting my shoulder.

We fall silent as our pace quickens. And soon enough, we come together, not bothering to stifle our moans as we completely lose ourselves in one another.

XXX

We order food from Postmates while we recover then shower together. He washes my hair, and I scrub his back. His hands don't leave me for long, if at all, and it sends a thrill throughout me.

We get out of the shower, and I linger on the bathmat, shivering as he grabs me a towel and wraps it around my shoulders. He runs his hands up and down my arms, trying to warm me, and I lift my chin to kiss him. We move to the sink to brush our teeth, both still wrapped in terrycloth, foamy-smiling at each other in the mirror.

I've missed these moments with him, just being together. It's like being apart from each other let me recognize that he takes care of me in a way no one ever has before. In a way I've never _let _anyone before. Like when he slides his shirt over my head, pulling my wet hair out from under the collar. Or when he tucks my cold feet under his thighs while we watch Netflix. It's all the little things that I've missed. It's all the little things that add up to one giant fucking thing: I love him. I always will.

XXX

I'm curled against his side, my head resting on his chest. It's just after three in the morning. We've fallen asleep a couple different times, tangled up in each other. Every time I wake up, my heart swells with the realization that I'm here, with him. It's like the best dream I never have to wake up from.

My fingers trail a pattern along his chest, and I smile when he shivers under my touch. We just had sex for the third time tonight, and I don't know how many more times it'll take until we're sated.

Other than not keeping our hands off of each other, we've kept the conversation pretty light all night. I can tell he's waiting for me to take the floor. For whatever reason, now feels like a good time.

Still lying against him in the dark, safe in his arms, I tell him about therapy, the parts I feel comfortable with, anyway. How Emily has been helping me retrain my way of thinking to be more compassionate toward myself. She helps me realize that not everyone is the enemy. There's no hidden agenda, not everyone is out to eventually hurt me. Edward lies quietly, taking in what I'm saying, kissing my temple every now and then.

I tell him about Renee… how she showed up just days after he left. I can feel him tense a little, like he's not thrilled to hear this. He stays quiet, though. I tell him parts of what I said to her, sneaking a glance at his face. He looks surprised but proud, the small smile on his mouth the best encouragement. I go on about how she's still in Forks, as far as I know, and how I wrote her a letter in therapy. I don't tell him any of that, other than it helped me get a lot of shit off my chest that I didn't realize I'd been holding in. I muse that it's funny how much more room there is in your heart after you let shit go that's not serving you. His grip on me tightens a little more after that.

When I'm done, Edward still stays quiet, really taking it all in. It's kind of nice, this silence, giving ourselves a moment to just be.

"You think you'll give the letter to Renee?" he finally asks.

I've thought long and hard about this over the last week. "No."

"So you're not trying to have a relationship with her anymore?"

"I never really had one with her," I say honestly, shifting a little so I can see his face. "But, yeah. I don't think I'd get anything out of trying to reconnect with her. I'm not as sad about that as I used to be."

"Okay." He tilts my chin up a bit, kissing me. "I'm happy for you. And I'm proud of you. And just… yeah."

"Thank you," I whisper, tangling my legs with his. "Thank you for being patient."

"I told you—you're it for me."

"God, it's so sexy to hear you say that."

"So…" He prompts, smirking. "You know, when you were at the front desk I heard you tell the clerk that we're together."

I mirror his smirk, not even embarrassed. "And?"

"How long have you been going around telling people I'm your boyfriend?" he teases, repeating my words from that day on the plane when I heard him telling some woman I was his girlfriend.

I laugh, shaking my head. "Not nearly long enough, that's for damn sure."

He likes this answer. "You wanna try this again, huh?"

"More than anything," I murmur, fingers grazing over his jaw.

"Me too," he agrees. "I think we need to talk about what we both need out of it this time, though. I don't want anything to come between us ever again."

I nod, stomach clenching, hoping this doesn't spark an argument, but fully knowing if it does we'll get through it. "Well… I need you to not lie. I know you wouldn't do anything like that again, and I know I could have handled things differently but… I just have to say it. So it's out there."

"Okay. I understand," he says earnestly. "I need you to trust me."

"I will. I do. I need you to trust me, too," I counter.

"I trust you, Bell," he whispers, holding my gaze. "I need you to forgive me if I do fuck up. I'm not perfect. _We're_ not perfect. But… I can't have you running away at the first sign of a problem. I need you to stick with me."

"I can do that," I say honestly. "I need you to not assume I'm gonna run every time something gets hard, though. Give me the benefit of the doubt, okay?"

His expression softens. "Okay."

We go back and forth, saying what we want; what we need. Neither of us argue, each of us agreeing to everything the other says. We're not asking for anything out of the realm of possibility, just mutual love and respect. It's all we need.

"Anything else?" he eventually asks, when the conversation starts to wind down.

I pretend to think, keeping the sly smile on my face. "One last thing."

"Yeah?"

"I need you to ask me again."

He searches my face. "Ask you what?"

"To move in with you."

His entire face brightens. "You want that?"

"I want _you_. And long-distance isn't gonna work for me. I don't want an expiration date with you, or to only spend a few days together every couple of months."

He looks genuinely surprised by what I'm saying, like he didn't expect me to get back to this place so soon. Maybe I didn't expect it, either. But more than ever, I'm ready. There's no sense in prolonging the separation when we both know what we want. I've already missed out on time with him. I'm not gonna let that happen again.

"What about your job?" he asks, always sensible.

"Fuck it. I'll quit. I might be unemployed for a little bit, but if you're okay with that…?"

"So, I'd be your sugar daddy?"

"Shut up," I laugh. "Not forever. Just until I get a job. It's not like I don't have _some_ savings, but I probably wouldn't be able to split rent with you right away, and—"

"You don't have to explain yourself. I'm okay with it, Bell. I kind of like the idea of taking care of you." My heart swells. "You really wanna quit your job though? I thought you liked it?"

"I don't like it more than I _love_ you. I don't think us starting over is gonna bode well with me still working for Ben, even in Santa Barbara. I don't want you to feel uncomfortable, no matter how attractive you are when you get possessive," I tease.

"I only get possessive because you're _mine_," he drawls, smirking.

"I know," I say, moving to straddle him. His shirt hangs off me, and he slides his hands up under the cotton, warm hands on my lower back. "I'm all yours."

"I'll never get tired of hearing you say that," he murmurs, growing serious. "Can I ask you something?"

"Yeah."

"What do you see when you think about our future?"

I really think about it, then tell him, "I see e_verything_."

"Like what?"

"Like… sharing the same bed for the rest of our lives. My shit constantly cluttering the bathroom counter top. Late Saturday nights and lazy Sundays in bed."

"I like the sound of this," he murmurs, gaze tender.

"And I'll be in therapy because I'm still working on myself. Maybe someday, we'd be in couple's therapy." He's quiet, letting me finish. "Not because we'd struggle, only because we'll do anything to stay strong. But maybe we would struggle," I add as an afterthought.

"But we'd get through it," he says for me.

I smile, searching his face. "I know it's not going to be easy, but I want it all with you," I whisper. "The good, the bad, and everything in between."

At this, he kisses me deeply. But I'm not done yet, so I say against his lips: "I see us moving outside of LA eventually, or maybe back to Seattle to be close to your parents again. I want babies with you. Maybe two—"

"Three," he butts in.

"Don't be greedy," I laugh. "But I'll think about it."

We fall silent, enjoying the moment, just staring at one another.

"Ask me again," I breathe out. But this time I add _please_.

"What am I supposed to ask?" he teases, and I playfully slap his chest. He laughs, grabbing my wrist, pulling me down to capture my mouth. With my lips against his, he murmurs, "Nothing makes me happier than being with you. Move in with me, Bella."

"Okay." I smile, closing my eyes, picturing our future again. I can see it all so easily. When I finally open them, I stare into _his_ eyes, full of affection and anticipation for what's to come. I want to imagine our lives from his perspective, so with a tender kiss to his lips I whisper, "Now tell me what _you_ see."


	31. Chapter 31

**This is it, folks! Big thanks to Hadley.**

**Thank you for reading and for all the lovely thoughts about this story! **

* * *

After surprising Edward in Chicago, I stay with him for two weeks. When he's working during the day, I explore the city, even busying myself with a little work for my own job. I attend some conference calls via Skype and do what I can remotely. Guilt nags at me for taking this impromptu vacation, mostly because my plan is to put in my two weeks notice the moment I get back to Seattle.

On my fifth day in town, Edward takes me to his office, which is only blocks from where we're staying. He introduces me to some of his colleagues, and a few of them can't hide their recognition at the mention of my name. Their smug faces give them away—Edward's been talking about me. Later on, he tells me he spent many happy hours with them back in LA, woefully recalling our story. He mumbles that he probably wasn't great company over those three months, but I kiss away his worry and replace it with the reassurance that the past is now behind us.

We wrap up our last weekend as tourists, taking selfies, holding hands, being completely obnoxious with our displays of affection. Edward takes me to all his favorite iconic buildings in Chicago, geeking out over the architecture. He's so fucking cute like this, using words like juxtaposition, dichotomy, and truss. I have no idea what he's actually saying, but I love the way it sounds coming out of his mouth. He gets caught up a lot, talking and pointing, trying his hardest to involve me. I attempt to keep up, but mostly watch him as he takes it all in. The fascination on his face during that time is one of my favorite memories.

We catch a Cubs game and venture to different restaurants. The ones I choose all have hot dogs and deep dish pizza on the menu. Edward chooses more lavish places for us, where the plates have infinitely less food on them and cost twice as much. I call him "Bougie Bitch" for part of the trip, and he merely rolls his eyes in response before admitting that the places I chose were better.

I capture a little content during our time, taking photos of the food, the sights, and some candids of the cutest boyfriend ever. It's not until my last night in town that I post any of it on my personal Instagram, highlighting my favorite spots to eat in Chicago. It's been months since I've updated my Instagram, and it feels good. I get a handful of immediate likes, a few "where ya been," and even a drool emoji, which I assume is for the photo of Edward mid-bite. I only assume it's for him because along with the emoji, the comment says, "what I wouldn't give to be that hot dog."

It's indecent.

And hilarious.

My phone lights up with a notification that ECullen liked my post. Upon further inspection, I notice that he also likes the inappropriate drooler's comment.

"Don't egg them on," I tell him, kicking his shin. We're lying in the hotel bed, and our legs are kinda tangled together, so my kick isn't as hard as I wanted it to be. Which is fine. I don't actually want to hurt him. I just have to give him shit.

"Don't post pictures of me without asking then." He doesn't sound mad, only playful. It spikes something within me, and I fight back. We're good at this.

"Well, I thought now that we're together again, I can post whatever I want of you."

"Why would that ever be a rule?" he asks rhetorically. "So I can post whatever photo I want of _you_?"

"That would require you to actually post stuff on your Instagram." I pull up his lonely page, which consists of nine posts total. The last photo was from over two years ago, and it's just the field at a Seahawks game. "Why do you even have an Instagram if you don't post anything?"

"Because I like to follow people," he says, almost convincingly. I give him a look and he admits: "Fine. I like to follow you."

I can't help the smile that takes over my face. "My very own stalker. I _love_ it."

I leave my spot beside him and straddle his waist. He's shirtless, wearing only a pair of black briefs. My fingers play with the hair just above his elastic waistband, and he shivers, his laugh husky and loaded with lust.

"You're one to talk about stalkers," he says, grabbing my wrist to stop me from teasing him. "You found me here, in Chicago."

I scoff. "Hardly any work went into that."

"I wouldn't brag."

"Why not? It's impressive." I sigh, pretending to be annoyed, but we're grinning at each other like idiots. I missed this; I missed him. We eased so seamlessly back into being ourselves, and it feels good. "Don't pretend like you're not glad I found you," I quip, continuing our pseudo-fight.

"Of course I am," he says, softer now. "So does the offer still stand? I can post whatever photo I want of you?" he asks, not letting the subject go.

"Fine. If you're so annoyed by me posting photos of you on my Instagram, then sure. Post whatever you want of me."

He grabs his phone and sticks it under my shirt.

"Hey!" I reach for his phone, but he's faster than I am, pulling it out of reach.

"Oh, simmer down. I didn't actually take a photo." I pinch his nipple as payback, but he only grunts in response, saying, "Harder."

I try not to let on how that simple groan and rough voice turns me on.

"You're an idiot," I say instead.

"Uh-huh." His phone is back and pointed to my face.

I cover the lens with my hand. "Don't. I'm not camera-ready."

"So?"

"So… like. _No_. You can't post a photo of me in your shirt, with no make-up, a zit on my chin and… and wet hair. Ew. No filter can make that pretty."

"Bella?"

"What?" I deadpan, half expecting him to counter my claims, tell me I'm beautiful and that he can hardly see my zit.

Instead he says, "Shut up."

I start laughing, and his phone is there again as I'm mid-laugh, mouth open and eyes likely narrowed so tightly, they're almost closed.

"Hey!" I blurt because he's so infuriating it makes me happy and bothered and so, so heated. In the best way.

"Ah. There we go." He grins at his screen, happy with whatever he was able to capture.

I shove at his chest. "Well? Show me."

He locks his phone and slides it under his pillow. "Not a chance. I didn't get to see the photos of me before you posted them."

"Newsflash, fucker—you always look good."

He merely laughs, but he must know it's true. "Let it go."

"I could." I look up at the ceiling. "But I won't."

"Well, you're gonna have to. It's not like I'm gonna post it right now. I'm gonna take my sweet time… wait for the perfect moment when you're really caught off guard."

"Ominous…" I trail off. "Exactly something a stalker would say."

"I'm not the stalker," he counters.

"I have it in writing that you drove past our old house in your mom's car," I say flatly, furthering my point. "Don't make me whip out that sucker as evidence."

His eyes light up, the corner of his mouth tugging just a bit. "You kept my letter?"

"What, you thought I was heartless enough to get rid of it?" I ask quietly.

"No. I don't know."

I lean forward a bit, so our chests are flush together. "I'm keeping that thing forever."

"Good." His hands run down my back, cupping my ass. "Damn, I don't want you to leave tomorrow. What am I gonna do without you for two weeks?"

"Use your hand?" I quip, and he leans his head back against the pillow, groaning. I kiss his neck and stubbled chin.

The plan is for me to go back home and finish out my two weeks at work while he wraps up his project in Chicago. Then he'll fly straight to Seattle to help me pack up and get things squared away before I officially become a resident of Los Angeles.

"I don't want to go either," I murmur, and he lifts his head again to look at me. "This bubble has been very, very nice."

"As nice as it's been, I'm looking forward to leaving the bubble."

My eyes narrow playfully. "Watch it, buddy."

"Not in a bad way. I just mean I'm excited to start our life in LA."

I die a little. "I am too. I'm excited to see your place."

"_Our_ place," he corrects.

"Right." I smile.

Our place. Our life. Our new beginning.

XXX

"You know, being a stalker _and_ a hoarder doesn't really work in your favor. You gotta pick one, Bell."

Edward's commentary as we pack my belongings to move has been nonstop. He keeps making little remarks, riling me up, trying to start something he'll likely finish by tossing me on my unmade bed and kissing his way down my body.

"Ha, ha," I say dryly. I don't actually have that much stuff, but he has zero hoarder in him, so he thinks this is funny. He's neat, organized. Every item he owns serves a purpose. I'm… a muddled mess. "You know, it's pretty offensive to throw around the H word when we both know that I'm _not_ that."

"Offensive to whom?" he deadpans, brows raising in challenge as he digs through a small storage container he found that contains every birthday card, Valentine, and letter I've received over my twenty-seven years.

"Offensive to people who actually suffer from hoarderism."

He barks a laugh. "Not a real word."

"What—you know every single word in the English dictionary?"

His eyes light up with amusement. "You're crazy."

"Again, that's offensive to actual crazy people."

"You _are_ an actual crazy person," he counters. "But I love you. Why did you keep all this stuff anyway?" He picks up a participation ribbon from field day… in the fifth grade.

"It's sentimental."

He grabs one of the cards from my grandma, reading aloud, "Bells, congrats on making the second grade A-Honor Roll." He snaps it closed. "Do tell me how there is a single ounce of sentiment attached to this?"

"You wouldn't get it." I groan out loud, grabbing the container and taking it away from his judgy eyes. "Go, make yourself useful in the kitchen."

He lingers, falling quiet, eyes worried that he pissed me off. I don't actually know why I kept all of that shit. Sure, some of it is sentimental—birthday cards from Charlie, my grandparents. Back in the day Emmett used to hand-draw me birthday cards, so those are in there too, along with Edward's perfect letter to me. All the other stuff is actual crap.

"Maybe I just… liked seeing evidence that I'm loved," I say, vulnerable. "Okay?"

"Shit," he sighs, sitting on the edge of my bed, pulling me to stand between his thighs. "Baby, I'm sorry."

I smile, meaning it, shrugging it off. "It's okay. It _is_ weird. Kind of like the way you have to clean the entire kitchen after cooking."

"That's not weird."

"_Before_ you eat," I add. "The food is cold! Why not clean after you enjoy your meal?"

"We're not talking about my quirks," he counters. "But I am sorry for messing with you about the cards. I actually think it's cute you kept Valentines from elementary school. I'm just jealous of whoever that Mike kid is… he drew way too many hearts on the Valentine he gave you."

"With good reason," I quip. "He was my first boyfriend, after all."

Edward breathes a laugh through his nose. "If I went to elementary school with you, I'd beat every kid's ass who looked at you."

I laugh a little too hard, stepping back from him. "And you think _I'm_ the crazy one?"

"I can't let it all be you. Where's the fun in that?" he retorts, tugging the belt loop on my shorts, keeping me in place.

When he's sitting and I'm standing, we're almost the same height. I kiss him chastely, but he deepens it, his fingers inching their way under the frayed hem of my jean shorts. "No," I groan into his mouth. "We can't." Even though I really, really want to. He's been teasing me all day, pulling his shirt up to wipe sweat from his forehead, slapping my ass as I walk by. "The ferry leaves at noon, and we can't miss it 'cause I told Charlie we'd be there by 3."

"Shit. Okay." He hides his face in the nook of my neck, and I feel him kiss a trail from my ear to my collarbone.

"Edward," I warn, and I feel his smile against my skin.

"Fine." He sits straight, holding his hands up in surrender. "No more touching." But he still keeps me trapped between his thighs.

"You're still touching," I laugh.

"Not with my hands." He says it kind of gruffly, eyes darkening.

I glance down at his lap, growing warm myself. I lift my knee a little, gently rubbing it against the bulge in his jeans.

"Bella, if you don't want me to throw you on the bed and take you right the fuck now, you gotta stop."

I smile. He swallows. And just as I suspected, it ends with him tossing me on the bed, crawling between my legs, making me cry out his name over and over again.

XXX

"So you're leaving," Charlie says, face unreadable.

"Yes."

"When?"

"The end of this week."

"And you'll be shacking up with him," he says, pointing to Edward who's sitting across from him.

"Shacking up?" I echo, pulling a face. "We'll be living together, yes."

"What are his intentions?" Charlie asks me.

"Don't be so old-fashioned," I laugh, shaking my head. "Why does that matter?" My mind flashes back to lying in bed with Edward, both of us expressing what we want and see for our lives. And what he wants is me. Forever. When he said it so simply, he made me cry. So Charlie doesn't have to worry, because Edward has the _best_ intentions.

I'm about to say this when Edward speaks up.

"This isn't a casual thing, Mr. Swan," he says, reaching for my hand. My smile softens when I see the way he's staring at me, eyes determined, smile confident. "I'm very serious about her. And I don't see it as shacking up," he adds. "We'll be living together… starting our lives."

"Since when do you call me Mr. Swan?"

"Since it seems I need your approval to take Bella with me to LA."

Charlie likes this answer. "You've always had my approval. I just like to make her sweat a little."

"How kind of you," I deadpan, brushing my thumb over Edward's, offering a smile to let him know he did good. Real good.

"Well, what?" Charlie stands from the table, moving toward the fridge. "I just wanna make sure you're taken care of, that's all."

"Bella can take care of herself," Edward says for me. "But I promise she'll be in good hands."

God, again with the swoon. And again, Charlie likes this answer.

Dad grills us some steak, and we celebrate with Rainier's finest lager. When we're done eating and the sun starts to dip a little lower in the sky, I stand and clear the patio table of our plates.

Edward stands to help me, and I pause, curiosity nagging at me.

"Is she still here?" I ask evenly.

Charlie looks up at me, taking a long pull from his can. "She left a month ago."

I can feel Edward's eyes on me, but I don't look over at him, merely nodding. Hearing that Renee left shouldn't surprise me. And it doesn't. It also doesn't throw me off kilter like it would've in the past. I'm almost stoic, like I've separated anything having to do with Renee from how it makes me feel. There's no anger, no sadness. Nothing.

"Did she say why?" I ask, and Edward takes the stack of plates from my hands before moving inside, giving us a minute alone.

"Just that Forks didn't feel like home. She was gonna go somewhere warmer. Arizona?"

"Is she sober?"

"Think so."

"Good."

Charlie watches me for a second. "You doing okay?" I nod. "Therapy and… all that has been okay?"

"Yeah. I'm actually gonna continue my sessions with Emily after I move. Apparently we can Skype or whatever, so. Yeah."

I see the faintest smile peeking out from under his mustache. "Glad to hear it." I'm about to walk inside when he says, "Sorry I put you through all that, kiddo. I didn't… well." He pauses, and I watch him swallow back emotion. "I was just going through the motions. I never really knew if what I did for you was right or wrong. Now I know. And I'm sorry."

I can't tell if he's talking about my childhood or letting Renee blindside me months ago. I decide it doesn't matter, though. The past is the past. He's sorry. He's trying. And I forgive him.

XXX

The night before Edward and I fly out, Em and Rose join us at the Chinese restaurant for one last hoorah.

We drink way too much, sing really bad renditions of our favorite karaoke songs, even indulge in the disgusting Jell-O shots that the bar offers. It feels a little bittersweet, but I'm so fucking excited for what's to come.

Edward's being handsy, pulling me into corners of the bar, making out like a teenager. Rose gives him shit every time he pulls me away because she wants to hang out and can't do that with him all over me.

I love it though. I love that he can't get enough. What Rose doesn't get is that we're making up for lost time. And not for the time that we were broken up… I mean for the last five years we weren't together romantically. Every moment, kiss, and touch with him is heightened. It feels different now, and I chalk it up to the fact that we're fully in this together. We're not worried, untrusting, or doubtful of each other. We know where we stand, and it's a good fucking feeling.

When it's nearing eleven, Edward wants to head home. I whine a little, but he has those eyes, the ones where he's silently telling me that he wants me. _Now_. In bed. Or rather, on the air mattress that's in my living room because I sold my bed yesterday, and we had to borrow an air mattress from Rose.

"Half an hour longer," I negotiate with him. "They haven't even played the duet Em and I are gonna sing!"

"Fine," he pouts, but I see the corner of his mouth tugging into a tiny smile. He heads to the bar and takes the stool next to Rose, leaving Em and I alone. Edward turns back, pointing toward the longneck in his hand, and I nod that I want one, too.

"So how does it feel?"

"What?" I ask, quirking a brow at Em.

"To have your shit together?"

I sputter a laugh, some beer dribbling down my chin. "Fuck you." Em merely smiles at my response. "It feels pretty good, though," I say eventually. I shouldn't be reluctant to admit that my shit definitely wasn't together until recently. "And for you? You're like a whole new man!"

Em quit his gig as a bartender and started working as the full-time _mixologist_ at his friend's new, hip restaurant. His hair is still a dark, curly mess, but it's shorter on the sides, a little more professional. His wardrobe has also changed significantly since he met Rose. And he's happy. I can tell it's genuine.

"I _am_ a new man. I started buying groceries at the store instead of 7-11," he brags.

"Wow, Em." I slow clap. "One step at a time."

He flips me off. "Being an adult isn't as scary as I thought it would be, I guess."

"Most things aren't as scary as they seem," I muse, staring at the back of Edward's head from across the room.

"I bought a ring," Em admits quietly, and I snap my head in his direction.

"No shit?" I breathe out, grinning so wide.

"It's nothing fancy, but… yeah."

"Dude, that's… big. Talk about being a real adult." I don't know what else to say. I'm equal parts excited and nervous for him. "Do you think she'll say yes?"

"Well, fuck, Bella. I thought so, but now I'm not sure if that's your reaction."

"_Sorry,_" I drawl sarcastically. "I've never had anyone tell me they're gonna propose. I don't know the protocol or what to say."

He shakes his head, grumbling a laugh. "I think she'll say yes."

"Me too. When are you gonna do it?"

"Still trying to work that out. Maybe in like a month… her birthday's coming up, so I have this whole thing planned."

I smile. "Who else knows?"

"No one? I guess the dude at the jewelry store. But no one else."

I'm touched that Emmett wanted to tell me first. I clap him on the back, offering encouragement. "Well… don't fuck it up."

He shakes with laughter, knocking his beer into mine. "Thanks. I knew I could count on you for the pep talk."

Edward and Rose join us again, and I'm buzzing with excitement. Edward gives me a look—he can tell something's up, but I keep my lips sealed. I'll keep it that way until we're alone later. There's zero way I'll be able to keep this news from him.

Eventually the night comes to an end. We all take turns hugging, and when my goodbye turns a little weepy, I chalk it up to having drank a little too much. We already came up with a tentative plan for Em and Rose to visit us in two months, and I very nearly blurt that we can celebrate their engagement. I stop myself though, and silently curse Em for offering this news while drunk.

Their Uber arrives first, and Edward and I linger on the sidewalk, waiting for ours.

"Em's gonna propose," I blurt once their car drives out of sight.

Edward's brows raise into his hairline. "Em moves fast. But good for him."

"_God_, I've been holding onto that information for far too long."

"How long have you known?"

"Half an hour."

The corners of Edward's eyes crinkle, and he pulls me to him. "How stressful for you."

"It was," I reply seriously. "I almost blew the whole surprise."

Edward just grins, arms wrapped tightly around my waist. "Speaking of weddings…" he trails off, eyes gleaming.

"What about them?" I ask, heart stuttering as I search his beautiful face.

"My mom is losing her shit," he says, shaking his head, smiling down at the ground.

"How?"

"When I was helping her clean up after dinner the other night, she was going on and on about wedding stuff. She already has some ideas for venues. She said she'd email them over to us. Bell," he murmurs, and my stomach flutters with anticipation. "She already has a spreadsheet," he finally says.

I gasp in mock horror, shoving his chest. "Not a spreadsheet!"

He laughs, tugging me back to him, kissing my cheek. "You think it's funny now. Just wait. You know how she is with parties and planning an event."

I sigh, staring up at him. "It doesn't sound so bad. Having someone who knows what they're doing will be nice… for… when that time comes." Edward just smirks. "Which can be whenever. I'm not in a rush. But you also know I want to be with you forever, so…" I stop my rambling. "Anyway."

"Anyway," he echoes, still grinning. "You know the minute we get married, she's gonna be talking babies. So… don't say I didn't warn you."

My cheeks grow warm, and I soften up to the idea so fast. I want this life with him, the commitment, the babies. The overbearing grandparents who spoil the shit out of their grandkids. We'll take it slow, though. For now. That doesn't mean all of this doesn't linger on the horizon.

"I don't mind the sound of that."

"Which part?" he asks, staring down at me in the most adoring way.

"All of it," I murmur, fingers playing with the back of his hair. "You're gonna be such a DILF, though. I'm already annoyed by how many people you're going to turn on by wearing a baby wrap."

Edward laughs at the thought, merely shaking his head. And with his lips so close to mine, he whispers, "Kiss me, you idiot."

I gladly do.


	32. Chapter 32 - Part 1 of 2

**KMYI Futuretake - two years later. Part 1 of 2.**

* * *

"I don't know what to pack."

"Well, for starters, you probably don't need that giant-ass suitcase," Edward points out. "We'll only be in Joshua Tree for two nights."

"Right. But the days are hot, and the nights are cold. So, I need to pack for two different types of weather."

"You always bring way too many clothes and end up wearing the same two things over and over again," he muses, opening the closet.

I playfully glare at him.

He's totally right, though.

"Can I throw my shit in with your stuff?" he asks.

"Get your own suitcase."

"That _is_ my suitcase," he points out. I merely smile, and he tugs on the vintage T-shirt I'm wearing. "This is mine, too."

"So is the person wearing it," I say sweetly, kissing his scruffy cheek. He's got more of a beard going on these days, and I really, really approve. "Don't act like you don't love me in your clothes."

"You're right. I do. But I love you even more with nothing on." His fingers pull at the hem, slipping it over my head until I'm topless.

He kisses my neck, dipping his head and bringing my breast into his mouth.

"Emmett and Rose will be here any minute," I warn. "She texted me, like, half an hour ago saying they were taking an Uber from the airport."

"They can wait."

"What if they walk in?"

"Front door's locked."

"Edward," I warn, feeling myself caving to the idea when his tongue flicks out over my nipple.

"I deserve the sex today of all days," he murmurs, and I laugh under his touch.

"Why's that?" I feign confusion.

"It's my birthday."

"It's actually not until tomorrow," I point out, shivering when he sucks on my neck.

"_Bella_."

"Fine," I concede, but of course I want nothing more than to give into him. I just have to give him a hard time.

He undoes the button fly of my jean shorts, tugging them down my legs.

And being the selfless man he is, he goes down on me first, kicking off his birthday weekend by giving _me _a mind-blowing orgasm.

XXX

The two-hour trip to Yucca Valley is one of the more scenic drives we've taken while living in California. I'm not sure why we haven't made it out here before, but celebrating the birth of the man I love seems like a great reason to invite our best friends out to the desert.

The house we rented off AirBnb is an Instagrammer's dream. When I read a review that labeled it a "property for architecture enthusiasts," I knew it was the perfect house for us to celebrate in.

It's light, airy. The living room has floor-to-ceiling windows and glass doors that slide open to the back of the house, almost inviting the desert inside. There's a sweeping view of the mountains where Joshua trees and cacti dot the landscape and a hot tub with lights strung up around the area.

Edward whistles when we walk in.

"Did you just get a boner?" Emmett asks seriously. "'Cause I did."

Rose and I roll our eyes.

"Do you love it?" I ask Edward, who's marveling at the design and aesthetic.

"I do." He pulls me against his side, kissing my temple. "You did good, baby."

"Go pick a room," Rose calls out, making her way into the kitchen. "We'll start unpacking all the booze, and I'll have Em make us some cocktails."

"Sounds good," I say casually, pulling Edward behind me.

We walk down the hallway, checking out each of the three bedrooms, landing on the one with a wall of windows and a king-sized bed.

I throw myself onto the mattress, and Edward stares out at the view.

"God, this bed is so comfortable." He stays put, his back to me. "Hello?" I say, snapping him out of it. "Insanely sexy girlfriend lying on the bed, waiting to be ravaged…"

He breathes out a laugh as he slowly makes a move to hover over me.

"Hi."

"Hi," I echo, pulling him down so his full weight is on me. He buries his face in my neck, and I feel him breathe into my hair. "What were you thinking about?"

"Nothing."

"Are you worried about turning thirty?"

"No."

"You should be. You're old AF."

He laughs, brushing some hair away from my face. "You're only a year younger than I am."

"Still younger."

"If older means wiser and more mature, I'll take it," he teases.

I pinch his nipple through his shirt. "Fucker."

He kisses my mouth, pushing his hips into mine. "I really, really am. But we should unpack."

"We're only here for two days, remember?"

"I remember."

I'm still holding onto him. "So let's _not _unpack."

"Bell," he laughs, kissing me. "If you don't let me get up, then I'm gonna get _up_, and it might be insanely obvious why we've disappeared for so long."

"So?" I challenge, and he raises his eyebrows.

I know he wants it, too, because of the way I teased him on the drive here. With my feet propped up on the dashboard and shorts so short he couldn't keep his eyes off my legs. More than once his attention was diverted, and he eventually had to tell me to put my legs away. I did, but I wasn't happy about it. Just like I'm not happy about him putting an end to this now.

"They're waiting," he tries again.

"Fine," I sigh, pushing him off of me. "You know, if you were harder on the eyes, this wouldn't be a problem."

"So, it's my fault you want me so bad?" he jokes, adjusting himself in his jeans.

"Damn straight it is."

"Trust me, it's equally difficult for me to keep my hands off you," he murmurs sweetly, sliding my fallen bra strap back in place under my tank top.

"Says the guy who just turned down birthday sex."

He grabs my waist, letting his hands slide down to cup my ass. "Hey."

"Yeah?"

"I love you." His eyes darken, and he kisses a trail from my cheek until he reaches my mouth. "Later."

"Later," I echo, smirking.

I'm gonna hold him to that.

XXX

When we join Rose and Em outside on the patio, they already have snacks and drinks prepared.

The four of us lounge in the sun, toasting to the birthday boy with blueberry basil mojitos. We talk tentatively about what we wanna do tonight and go back and forth on either grilling some food or heading into town.

After our third round of mojitos, it's decided that we don't want to bother with cooking.

"Should we get some pictures before we get a little too toasted?" Rose asks, looking at me.

"Shoot." I slide my sunglasses onto my head. "Yeah, we probably should."

I stare out at the horizon; the sun is about to turn everything dreamy and golden. It's the perfect time to get some photos.

"Pictures?" Edward asks, confused.

Six months after I moved to LA, I got a job working at a boutique clothing store, handling their Instagram and providing content for their website. Cora, the owner, and I totally hit it off in the interview, and after a glowing recommendation from Ben, she offered me the job.

It's a small business, but the shop is warm and inviting, and the people I work with are total gems. Every item in the store is expertly curated to reflect Cora's Bohemian taste, and though it's the only shop she's opened so far, she carries brands and unique quality goods from around the world.

When she heard we were coming to Joshua Tree this weekend, she definitely used it to her advantage. She asked me to bring a few clothing items and accessories to photograph in the desert setting. The entire thing escalated when she realized my bombshell of a friend would be here, too, and decided to send along all of next season's items for Rose to showcase.

Rose was thrilled when I told her.

Edward, however, looks less so.

"Cora asked me to get a few photos of Rose wearing our Fall items. Remember?"

"So, you're working," Edward says a bit flatly.

"Just a few shots," I say carefully. "That's all."

He's quiet, contemplative. If he's upset, he won't say it in front of Rose and Em. That's not his style.

"Em, will you help me clear the table?" Rose and Em start stacking glasses and plates.

Edward and I are quiet until they leave.

"What's wrong?" I ask gently.

"'Just a few shots' usually turns into hours of you disappearing," he replies, a little deflated. "I'm not mad, I just… didn't think you'd be working this weekend."

"It's not even really work."

"Just like our trip to Mexico, which turned into you spending hours uploading and editing photos to send to Cora, wasn't considered _work_?" I open my mouth, but he keeps going. "Just like in San Francisco when you left me at the hotel for a few hours to meet with that shop owner? That wasn't you working?"

"I didn't leave you for _hours_," I counter. "It was like—"

"Three hours, Bella."

"Okay? But we'd just started carrying their items in our store, and Cora just wanted me to—"

"Bella."

"_Edward_. Why do I feel like I have to defend myself to you?"

He gives me a look.

"You don't. I'm just... bummed."

This feels all too familiar, and apprehension brews in my belly.

Right after I got the job, we argued a lot. I wasn't even working as much as he was, technically, but my job required me to be gone during weekends, whereas he had weekends off. So, we barely saw one another. Which turned into us orbiting around each other, picking the stupidest fights when we were together.

It wasn't how I envisioned our first year of living together.

But that was our reality.

Eventually, we decided we should go to therapy. After a couple of months of being consistent with it, it finally came out that Edward was still harboring some resentment toward me after I pushed him away and threw myself into my old job, with Ben. I guess my new gig in LA, coupled with being overly busy, brought back those feelings, and he wasn't sure how to talk to me about it.

He was scared of losing me again, I guess.

Instead of empathizing, I lashed out. Why would he think he was losing me? I moved for him. I quit a job I liked, and gave up everything to be with him. And what did he give up? Nothing. He already had a life in LA without me, and I had to figure out where I fit into the equation.

We worked through it, though.

We moved past it.

Or so I thought.

"I don't know what you want me to say," I tell him, swallowing back any defensiveness that's starting to build. "How would you have liked me to handle this differently?"

"I just wish you would've told me about having to work beforehand. And… maybe don't let Cora dictate what we do in our free time? I hate that she convinces you to sneak in some work while we're on vacation."

"Okay." I think about this. He's not wrong, and I get where he's coming from. If he abandoned me to work, I'd feel hurt, too. Especially during my birthday. "Well, I did tell you. Two weeks ago. When we were at the beach?"

Recognition flashes over his face. "Oh. Yeah. I forgot."

"Maybe you're right. I should be better at telling Cora _no_. Next time I'll tell her no work on vacation. Because that is shitty… I know. I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry, too."

"But I'll do this for her today because I can't go back on my word. Half an hour, tops. That's it."

"Thank you." He drains his glass. "I'm not trying to be a controlling asshole. You know that, right?"

I leave my chair and sit in his lap. "I know. And I don't think you're being a controlling asshole."

"I just want this weekend to be perfect for us. No work. No bullshit. Just... you and me."

"And Em and Rose?" I offer, smiling.

"You know what I mean."

"It's still perfect. To me, at least."

"Okay," he says, sighing. "That's all I want."

"It's _your_ birthday weekend, though," I laugh. "It should be perfect for you, not me." He leans over and captures my mouth in a kiss. "Let me go do this and then… we can shower together before dinner?"

His eyes twinkle. "Okay." I stand from his lap, and he gently tugs my wrist, keeping me in place. "I'm sorry for being weird about it."

"It's okay," I say, then add as an afterthought, "_we're_ okay."

I meet Rose inside and start unpacking all the clothes I need for her to wear. She's more than obliging to play dress up, and I really, really appreciate it.

We make our way outside, and she follows behind me as I walk through rocks and dust to find the perfect spot to shoot. I let her pass in front of me, capturing some shots of her walking away. Then stopping. Then looking back at me. We do that a few times until we move on.

She stands near some cacti, and I guide her on where to look, how to stand. I toss her a brown felt hat, and she puts it on her head, staring out into the distance.

"You're killing it," I tell her, staring through the lens of my camera.

"This is so weird," she laughs.

"I know. But we're almost done," I promise. "Also, thank fuck you're here, otherwise I'd have to set up my tripod and be in the shot. Or I'd have Edward do it, but… sometimes he teases that I just want him to be my Instagram Husband. So, I try not to bug him too much with taking photos for me."

"Speaking of _husbands_," Rose says.

"Real subtle, Rose."

I get a shot of her mid-laugh.

"Well, what? Have y'all talked about it? Do you want to?"

I lower my camera. "Of course I want to. I love him. Yeah, we've talked about it in the sense that it's going to happen, and we'll be married someday. Not like… planning out every detail or anything, though."

I'm not in a rush, either. I like where we're at right now. Not that I wouldn't mind if we got married. I'd say yes in a heartbeat. But I'm also not going to push it.

When it happens, it'll happen.

"Okay, I think…" I scroll through all the photos I've taken. "We're all set."

"Now what do you gotta do?"

Pick the best ones. Edit them. Email them over to Cora and await her approval, then retake any photos she requests.

But my insanely sexy boyfriend is inside, waiting for me to jump into the shower with him.

Everything else can wait.


	33. Chapter 33 Part 2 of 2

**Thank you for revisiting these two with me.  
**

* * *

After everyone's cleaned up a bit, and Edward and I have made use of the king-sized bed, we head into town to check out the infamous honky-tonk and BBQ joint, Pappy and Harriet's Pioneertown Palace.

We sit outside, eating way too much food and enjoying too many beverages. There's a live band that starts playing around nine, so Emmett suggests we stay for the show.

The night grows cooler, but I grow warmer. Edward's drunk and handsy, pulling me to him and kissing me deeply every now and then. I love him like this. Flirty and cheeky and intoxicated. Part of me still feels guilty over the whole Cora thing earlier, but I let it go. He's over it, and I don't want to bring it up again when we're having so much fun.

We stay longer than we planned to and drink more than we should've. Nostalgia hits me hard, because I've missed Em and Rose. We don't really have close friends like this in LA yet. And we can't fly back and forth that often to see them. Edward senses my mood change, giving me a look while we're waiting for the check. I just shake my head, offer a reassuring smile, and finish my beer.

It's close to one in the morning by the time the four of us stumble out of the taxi and into the AirBnb.

"Hot tub time," Em announces. He and Rose disappear into the bedroom.

"Hot tub?" Edward asks, looking at me.

I shrug. "The last time I was pretty drunk and got in the hot tub, it made my hangover insanely worse."

He thinks back. "Are you sure that wasn't the two tequila shots, four beers, and—"

"Okay, okay. I get it. But… maybe no hot tub? You can if you want."

"I'm kinda tired."

"Well, I hope you're not _that_ tired…"

He just grins.

When Em and Rose come back out, in their bathing suits, I tell them we're going to bed.

But it's not entirely true. I have other plans in mind.

We say goodnight, and head to the bedroom. Edward shuts the door behind us, closes the curtains, and turns on the lamp as I slip out of my shoes. We can hear murmured conversation from Rose and Em on the patio, and Edward gives me a look.

"If we can kinda hear them, they can probably kinda hear us, so…"

"Are you warning me to be quiet while you fuck me?"

I watch his gaze darken, just a little, and he licks his lips. "Yes."

"If you want me to be quiet, then you're gonna have to not be so good…" I start to take off my clothes.

"Stop."

"Stop what?"

"Undressing yourself. That's my job," he murmurs.

"Well, get over here and do it," I say flirtatiously.

He crosses the room, taking his time as he slides my already unbuttoned shorts down my legs. I step out of them and he pulls my shirt over my head. When I go to unclasp my bra, he pushes my hands out of the way, doing that for me, too. And instead of taking off my underwear, he drops to his knees, pushing them to the side.

I shift in anticipation, then gasp at the contact of his hot mouth on my clit, his wayward hair brushing against my belly as he licks and sucks.

My legs start to shake and I squirm.

I shift away a little until I can lie back on the mattress. He stays on his knees, then goes back to what he was doing, adding fingers this time to my already wet pussy. "Oh, fuck," I cry out, trembling as I come against his mouth. "Just like that."

I love that he knows exactly what to do. That he knows my body so fucking well and being together is seamless.

When he's done, I catch my breath and move further back onto the bed. He undresses himself then hovers over me with one hand, pumping his dick a few times with the other.

"That's _my_ job," I murmur, replacing his hand with mine, stroking up and down. He hisses out a _fuck_, and his hips jerk forward. "You wanna fuck me?"

"You know I do," he grits out, sitting back on his heels. "Open your legs wider, baby."

So I do.

He hovers once again, but this time he grips his dick then slowly rubs the head over my pussy. He does it on purpose when he wants to make me squirm. And as much as I love it, I need him inside of me.

"Fuck," I whimper. "Fuck me."

"I dunno," he breathes a laugh, barely sliding inside of me before pulling out. "I'm kinda having fun teasing you."

"Dude_._"

"Yes?"

"Not fair."

"You've been teasing me all day. Propping your legs up on the dash. Grinding a little on my dick when you sat on my lap tonight. Rubbing me through my jeans in the backseat of the taxi, when Rose wasn't looking."

I bite back a grin. Yeah. I did those things.

"I was just preparing you to fuck me, is all," I pant, when the head of his dick makes another pass over me.

I lift my hips a little, and he gives in, pushing into me before collapsing his full weight on my body.

"Unghh," he groans incoherently. "You feel so fucking good."

"_You_ do."

We move against each other, quiet pants and soft grunts. I bend my knee and let him go deeper, and it feels so fucking good. I start to get a little too vocal, especially when he starts moving his hips to rub against my clit.

"Shh," he laughs a little.

"I can't help it," I say breathlessly. "Your dick is too good."

I think my words encourage him because he thrusts faster, and when my moans grow louder, he covers my mouth. I cry out from behind his hand, and the louder I try to be, the harder he fucks me.

"You wanna get on top?" he asks, pulling his hand away.

"No. I like it like this," I say, sliding a hand down my stomach to rub my clit.

He watches me touch myself, eyes glazing over and face growing slack like always. It doesn't take long for heat to blossom in my belly again, and I warn him.

"You gonna come for me again?" he asks breathlessly.

All I can do is nod dumbly, eyes clenching shut as he pounds into me, chasing his own release, soft _fucks_ and _I love you's_ falling from both our mouths.

He stays on top of me as we catch our breath, then kisses my forehead, cheeks, mouth before pulling out and rolling over. I leave the bed to use the bathroom, turn on the ceiling fan, then lie back in bed. He lifts his arm, inviting me to curl next to him, and I rest my head on his chest.

"Was I too loud?"

"I kinda liked it." I can hear the smirk in his voice.

"Of course you did," I say, hitching a leg over his waist. "Guess what?"

"What?"

"It's after midnight." I tilt my head to kiss him. "Happy Birthday, baby."

His hands roam over my body, down my ass, pulling me even closer to him. I deepen the kiss, pushing my hips against his, until he's groaning into my mouth.

"Again, woman?"

"No." I laugh at his tired expression. "Hey."

"Yeah?"

"I'm sorry for working today."

"It's okay."

It's not, but I'm glad we were able to move past it and not let it ruin the day, like it would've in the past, before we started therapy.

He rubs his hand up and down my arm. "I know you get paid extra for that time, but if it's money you want, then I'll just pay you to hang out with me instead of work."

I laugh a little too hard, covering his cheeky grin with my hand. "Shut up." I pull my hand away, kissing him. "I'll just be better about saying no. Did you have fun tonight?"

"Yeah. I always have fun with you."

I kiss his scruffy chin. "What'd your mom call for earlier? To wish you a happy birthday?" Right after we ate his phone rang and he left the table for a few minutes.

"Yeah. The signal was really shitty, though. She says hi, by the way. So does my dad."

"_Hi_." I smile. "I miss them."

"Me too. I hate that it's been almost a year since we've been back home."

"We should visit them soon. I know Charlie misses us, too."

We don't mention Renee. Mostly because there isn't much to say. I haven't heard from her in over a year. It's the longest we've gone without knowing where she is or who she's with. Sometimes it makes me sad. Other times, angry. But, ultimately, I know it has to do with her, not me.

My fingers trail a path up and down his stomach, making him shiver under my touch.

"Have you ever thought about moving back to Seattle?" he asks, shifting a little to look at me.

"Like… alone? Or with you?"

He chuckles, realizing how it sounded. "Have you ever thought about _us_ moving back to Seattle," he corrects.

"Yeah, when I first moved to LA. I wanted us to move back home. Only because it was uncomfortable. Unfamiliar. But… now? I'd stay. I like LA."

"I do, too."

"Like… you'd be okay never moving back to Seattle?"

"I would be okay with that," he agrees. "But my mom wouldn't be thrilled. Especially when we have a kid."

"_When_ we have a kid?" I echo, smiling. "When will that be, anyway?"

"Whenever you want."

"We're not married." I don't know why I say it, because that doesn't matter to me. I'd have a baby with him without a ring or a piece of paper telling us we're legally together.

"You don't have to be married to have a baby," he says simply.

"I know." I pause, thinking. Sure, he and I have talked babies, but only recently, in my own therapy sessions, has the topic come up of kids and what kind of mom _I'd_ be. "Sometimes I just…"

"What? You change your mind or something?" he tentatively asks.

"No." I shake my head, then shift my body so my chin is resting on his chest. "Nothing like that. But… doesn't it worry you?"

"What, having a kid? Of course, it worries me. I'm not expecting it to be easy, but I wanna do it with you."

"Well, doing _it_ is definitely step one of making a baby happen," I tease lightly before turning more serious, dropping my gaze from his. "I just meant…"

"What?"

"You're not scared I'd be a shitty mom? Like Renee?" Because _I'm_ worried about that. It haunts me. And I know I wouldn't abandon our child or anything dramatic like that, but there are a multitude of other ways I could fuck them up, and the thought truly terrifies me.

He's quiet, and I hesitantly meet his eyes again.

"Baby, no," he whispers. "You wouldn't be a shitty mom. Not at fucking all."

"How can you be so sure I won't fuck up our kid?"

"Because I know you. I know your heart," he murmurs, words as tender and loving as his gaze. "And who's to say _I_ wouldn't fuck up our kid?"

I laugh a little. "You wouldn't. You're perfect. Your family is perfect."

He gives me a look. He hates when I say shit like that. "We're not perfect. At all."

They are, but I don't fight him on it.

"I'm just scared I'm gonna fuck everything up and do irreparable damage to our kid, and they're gonna end up resenting me for their entire life the same way I—" I stop myself from saying the same way I resent Renee, because it feels like everything I've worked toward has been for nothing. I need to let that shit go, but it's been hard. Some days are easier than others. "Ugh." I cover my face. "Sorry. This is like the last thing we need to be talking about while drunk. And on your birthday, no less."

"Bella…" He pulls my hand away from my face. "I wanna talk about it."

My nod is small, and I sigh.

"I've had to work really fucking hard to move past some of the stuff that's happened with Renee. And even then, there's a lot I haven't even touched on yet," I tell him truthfully. "I would never forgive myself if I put our kid through even an ounce of the insecurity and chaos I dealt with growing up."

"You wouldn't. _We_ wouldn't," he reassures me, brushing my cheek. "But why haven't you said any of this to me before?"

"Because I didn't want to say it out loud to you. I didn't want to put those same thoughts in your head."

"You can tell me anything, baby. Nothing you say will change how I feel or think about you. Okay?"

"I know."

"And I get why you're scared. I get where your thoughts are coming from, but… Bella?" He takes my face in his hands, staring me in the eyes. "You're _not_ Renee. Not even close. You're compassionate and loving and empathetic, and you're gonna be the best fucking mom."

My heart swells with emotion. "You don't have to say that."

"I do."

"Thank you."

"You don't have to thank me. It's all true."

We kiss for a moment, lips pressed against lips, until he parts his mouth and deepens it.

"I love you," he murmurs, mouth still on mine. "So fucking much."

"I love you, too." I curl against him again, resting my head on his chest, arm draped over his stomach. "I guess if your parents are a how-to guide on raising kids, Renee is how-_not_-to."

"That's one way to look at it." He breathes out a laugh through his nose. "No more worrying about all that, okay? We're gonna be fine. More than fine."

"Okay." I sigh deeply. "You know what's _not_ gonna be fine?"

"What?"

"Tomorrow's hike. Maybe we shouldn't go."

"Nah. We're going. That was the one thing I wanted to do this weekend for my birthday."

"Or we can stay in bed all day and have lazy hangover sex?"

"Okay, the hike was the _second_ thing I wanted to do this weekend," he amends with a laugh. "Lazy hangover sex, then hike."

"You're a cruel man, but fine."

"You love me. And you're gonna be glad you went."

Edward falls asleep first, like he usually does, and I stay in his arms, replaying our conversation about babies and being parents and all of the things that are yet to come. Eventually, I close my eyes, feeling hopeful and emotional in the best way, then drift to sleep.

XXX

"What are y'all doing?" I ask Rose and Em when I find them posted up on the couch, still looking rough. "Aren't you hiking with us?"

We've been pretty lazy all day, waiting until late afternoon to hike, when it's not as hot out. The only other option was early morning, and there was no way we'd be up for sunrise.

I was expecting Rose and Em to get it together by now, but clearly they are still struggling.

"I think we're gonna pass," Rose croaks. "We drank too much and stayed in the hot tub way too long. Being in the sun isn't going to be a good idea for me."

"Or me," Emmett chimes in, cracking open a beer.

"Um. Is that smart?"

"It's not just smart, it's _necessary,_" he says. "I need to keep this train going, otherwise it's gonna crash."

"Then chug a beer and let's go."

Em takes a lengthy gulp. "No can do."

I shake my head. "Buck up, bitches. It's Edward's birthday hike."

"It's cool," Edward says, walking past me into the kitchen to fill up his water bottle. "Seriously. I'd rather them wait here for us than vomit on the trail."

Disgusting, yet fair point.

"Fine. Where's the backpack?" I ask.

"Why?"

I give him a funny look. "Because I want to put my sunscreen and water bottle in it?"

"I got it." He takes my shit from me and disappears into the bedroom, reappearing with his shoes on and backpack securely on his back. "Let's go."

It's a half-hour drive to where we're hiking. Edward's kinda quiet, which is fine. But he was kinda short with me this morning, and I feel like something is on his mind.

"You okay?"

He drums his fingers on the wheel. "Yeah."

"Are you still mad over the work thing?"

He takes his eyes off the road for a second to look at me. "Bella, no."

"Cora texted this morning and asked me to send her the edited photos, which I have yet to edit. So I told her _no_, and that I can send them to her Monday."

"Good," he says, tone a little sharper. "Was she mad?"

"I don't think she was thrilled, but fuck it."

He reaches for my hand, and brings it to his mouth, pressing a sweet kiss to my palm. "Thank you."

"I love you. I just… get caught up in all of that sometimes."

"I know."

"I like feeling needed, and I like knowing that I'm good at my job, and I just… yeah."

"_I_ need you," he says simply, and I just squeeze his hand, telling him I need him, too, before we fall into a comfortable silence.

XXX

The sun is still hot later in the day, but the hike to the top is only 1.5 miles, so we're determined to make it. It's steeper than we thought it would be, and the trail is rocky, so I lose my footing a few times. Edward stays behind me in case I fall again, which doesn't happen because the next time I kind of slip, he grabs my waist, steadying me.

We finally make it to the top, sweaty and dusty. I chug half my water then give it to him.

"Fuck, it's beautiful out here," I pant, wiping my forehead.

"It really is."

"But damn, I am out of shape."

He laughs. "You aren't. It was tough for me, too, with the incline."

We stare out at the panoramic view of jumbled rock formations and gravel desert. Joshua trees and cacti surround the summit, so we have to be careful where we step. The sky is so blue, free of any and all clouds. I snap a few selfies of the two of us—smiling, kissing, laughing. They're nauseatingly cute, but I don't plan to post them anywhere. They're just for us.

We sit for a little bit, not caring that our asses will be covered in dirt, sharing some snacks. It's a popular hike, so we definitely aren't the only ones hanging around the peak. I comment that Rose and Em really missed out, but Edward doesn't necessarily agree or disagree.

When we're ready to head back down, Edward stands, reaching down to help me up. Once I'm standing, I dust off my ass, and Edward, being the gentleman he is, assists me.

I laugh, calling him out. "So helpful."

He smirks. "I do what I can."

I start to move, but Edward shakes his head. "Hold up, you need more sunscreen."

I touch my cheeks; they do feel a little tender. He fumbles in the backpack and I'm checking out my arms and shoulders to see if those have burned, too. Which they have, of course.

When I turn back to Edward, I find him on one knee.

It doesn't strike me as odd, not at first. Not until my eyes land on the diamond ring in his hand.

My heart stops, and I cover my mouth in genuine surprise.

"Bella," he prompts, his face more earnest than I've ever seen.

"Yeah?" I ask quietly from behind my hand. My stomach flutters with the best nerves because he's proposing. To me. Edward wants me for life, and that realization overwhelms me and makes my eyes blur with tears.

He hesitates, nervous. "Remember when I told you you're it for me?"

"I remember," I reply, voice shaking as I drop my hand.

"I've felt that way for a very long time now."

"You're it for me, too." I swipe under my eyes, catching a few tears before they fall on my cheeks.

"If I'm being honest, I've felt that way since the day we met."

"But I was such a bitch to you," I laugh through my tears.

"No," he chuckles with me, "you weren't."

I can see a few people watching us, in my peripheral, but I don't focus on them because Edward is on one knee, and everything else around me blurs into the background. Everything else always fades away when he's around. He has my full attention and my entire heart. He has everything.

"I've never been more serious about anything or anyone in my entire life," he murmurs, reaching for my left hand. "I know we've been through a lot to get to this point, but it's been so fucking worth it."

"I think so, too," I murmur, sniffling. "Shit. I'm sorry. Am I supposed to just let you talk, or…"

Edward laughs, along with the few people watching.

"It's okay," he promises. "I like hearing what you have to say, because it lets me know that the next thing to come out of your mouth will be the answer I've been waiting to hear." He swallows, eyes determined and nervous all at once. "I've loved you for so long, and you've been my best friend for even longer. I just want to spend the rest of my life with you. Marry me, Bella."

I breathe out an incoherent _yes_, smiling through the happiest tears I've ever cried.

"Yes?" he asks.

I frantically nod, cupping his face as I lean over to kiss him. "Yes," I murmur against his lips. "Fuck, yes."

Still on one knee, his hand shakes a little as he slips the ring on my finger, letting out a relieved sigh when it fits.

"Shit," I breathe out, staring at the simple sparkling diamond on a gold band. "It's beautiful."

He stands and pulls me up into his arms, so my legs are hooked around his waist. We hear some claps from around us, but I don't pull my eyes from Edward's.

"You're gonna be my _wife_," he whispers in awe, and I melt from hearing the word slip from his lips.

I press my forehead to his, then kiss him with everything I have. We've been through so fucking much—so many wonderfully messy memories fill my mind—and everything led to this exact moment. He's stuck by me. He's been patient and loving and so fucking understanding. I love him, care so much about him, and cannot wait to continue our lives together.

"I was so nervous," he tells me on the walk back to the car. He's holding my left hand, and every now and then, I glance down just to look at the ring.

"But you knew I'd say yes."

"I know, but… still. It's a big moment. I didn't wanna fuck it up."

"That's why you were so quiet today?"

"Yeah."

I give him a sympathetic smile. "Do Em and Rose know?"

He grins. "Yes. They were never gonna actually come on the hike with us. The plan was to propose alone."

"So they were pretending to be hungover?"

"No, that part was real," he says, and we laugh.

"Do our parents know?"

"They knew I bought a ring. I didn't tell them when I was gonna do it, though."

"Charlie knew?"

"I called him last week."

"You asked my dad for my hand in marriage?" I ask. It's so antiquated, but I find it really fucking endearing.

"He has guns. I'm not stupid." He breathes out a nervous laugh. "He said I didn't need his blessing though, but he appreciated the heads up."

"Charlie loves you."

"My family loves you, too. Beware, I'm pretty sure once we call my parents to let them know, my mom is gonna send over that wedding spreadsheet."

"I'm ready," I laugh, looking at the ring again. "I just realized though that you gave _me_ a gift on your own birthday."

He shakes his head. "I mean, I got something out of it, too," he says sincerely. "I got you for life."

I stop in place on the trail, staring up at him, feeling overwhelmed with how fucking lucky I am to have him. From the way he's staring back at me, I know without a doubt he feels the same. I stand on my toes and press a sweet kiss to his mouth.

I can't wait to give him everything we've ever wanted.

I can't wait to have it _all_ with him.

The good, the bad, and everything in between.


End file.
